


The Price of Hope

by sareyen



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Apocalypse, BAMF!Charles, Bamf!Erik, Blood and Violence, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Fallen Angels, Flashbacks, Friendship, Legion AU, M/M, Prophecy, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25821478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sareyen/pseuds/sareyen
Summary: God and the angels have, at long last, given up on humanity, and plan to annihilate humans once and for all to wipe the slate clean. However, Charles, an angel who still holds hope for the human race, gives up everything to try and save them - his wings, his mind-reading Gift, and his fellow angel and greatest love, Erik. Erik, who holds no hope for humanity, not any more.When Charles falls from Heaven, he is determined to save humanity from the upcoming apocalypse. Defying the orders of God and the other angels, Charles races to a small town in the desert, where the prophecy of the world's end will be fulfilled or broken. It turns out that the fate of humanity lies a small group of strangers at a diner - Moira the waitress, Darwin the cook, Sean the dishwasher, Logan the veteran, Alex the ex-con, Angel the escaping prostitute, Hank the student and the pregnant Raven, whose unborn child is the key to everything.*Based on the 2010 movie 'Legion' (not the X-Men TV series)*
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 44
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks so much for clicking onto this little story! As always, I recently rewatched a movie and of course my immediate thought was "I could totally write Cherik into this plotline". And hence, this fic was born!
> 
> This fic will be 4 chapters long, and I have most of it written up and just waiting to be edited - so hold on tight!
> 
> Oh, and of course, I hope you enjoy the story :)

_“For behold, the Lord will come in fire  
And His chariots like the whirlwind,  
To render His anger with fury,  
And His rebuke with flames of fire.  
For the Lord will execute judgment by fire  
And by His sword on all flesh,  
And those slain by the Lord will be many.”_

_Isaiah 66:16_

“Charles, don’t be foolish!” Erik hissed, wrenching Charles’s arm back, forcing the shorter angel to look at him. Bottomless blue eyes stared up at Erik, determined. Unwavering. That gaze that always made Erik weak now only angered him.

 _‘Let me go, Erik,’_ Charles pushed into Erik’s mind, the internal echo making Erik quake. But, still, Erik did not let go of Charles’s arm and only squeezed tighter.

“I will not,” Erik churned out, pulling Charles closer, the man’s wings tensing. “Charles, this is _madness_. You’d give everything for those… those _humans_. How could you…”

_‘You, who is so beautiful and pure, so full of everything that is good. You, who has always been the best of all of us. Why would you want to lower yourself to the level of those humans who are beyond salvation?’_

Charles’s eyes softened for a moment, likely overhearing his closest friend’s honest thoughts. Red lips curved gently, before flattening back out into a resolute line.

 _‘I have hope, my friend,’_ Charles supplied softly, slipping his left arm from Erik’s grip to reach up and cup the taller angel’s angular cheek.

“Hope,” Erik said bitterly, lips pulling back in something resembling a snarl. Erik’s steely-grey eyes narrowed as he gathered a sharply cut collection of thoughts and images in his mind, the familiar thrum of Charles’s own mind buzzing around the fringes of his consciousness. Erik felt hesitation, never wanting to hurt Charles, but disregarded the feeling because he had to make Charles _see_.

Erik threw all of the images he had gathered from the past few millennia at Charles, who winced and stumbled a little, held in place by Erik’s hands which again gripped his biceps, shaking the stubborn man.

Erik sent Charles images of humans at their worst – hurting children, ravaging the land, of countless wars leaving blood to soak the Earth red. Erik throttled Charles’s mind with everything that was terrible, of everything soiled and tainted and so unlike the man wearing pristine robes of white, fringed with sunlit gold.

That very fabric was crumpling under Erik’s hands now, and Erik pushed down the sense of unease budding within him – Charles had always looked so clean and pure, always opting for white robes in contrast to Erik’s harsh warrior’s garb. Erik knew better than to be deceived by Charles’s appearance, knowing that underneath the fluttering white silks was a hardened body, strong and powerful, encasing a mind that was even more astounding.

“Erik, _stop_ ,” Charles gritted out, glaring up at Erik now with those blue eyes of his that He had modelled after skies and oceans. Or was it that the skies and oceans of Earth were modelled after Charles’s eyes?

Charles rarely used his Gift so forcefully, but now he snapped at Erik’s mind, shielding his own from the unrelenting torrent of earthly atrocities, silencing Erik. Erik, in turn, almost winced as his mind grew cold, Charles pulling back. It felt like there was an empty space in the base of Erik’s mind, so used to having Charles’s warmth curled up there. Charles’s constant tether to Erik was not invasive – never invasive – but just a silent hum of ‘I’m here, you’re not alone’.

Now, though, Charles refused to touch Erik’s head.

“Don’t you see, Charles?” Erik urged, the gold bands around Charles’s biceps and legs humming under Erik’s gift. “The humans, they’re beyond all hope. They kill and hurt each other for greed and wrath, they’ve razed the very Earth He created with smoke and death. It has taken Him so long to see it, but the humans are inferior and need to be exterminated. Even He has lost hope, and He is right.”

Charles eyes grew glossy and wet, and Erik watched him minutely shake his head, a mere tremble. Chestnut hair which shone almost amber in the light of the Heavens shook over Charles’s eyes, obscuring them as he looked down.

“I don’t believe it,” Charles whispered, Erik’s heart hammering at Charles’s admission.

“No, Charles, don’t say that,” Erik said, almost pleading as he shook Charles again, the metal surrounding them in the Hall of Angels in Heaven screaming as Erik’s Gift unfurled, unbidden in his internal panic. _‘Charles, don’t say it. Please, stay by my side. We want the same thing.’_

Charles looked up again then, tears slipping down his reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry, my friend, but we do not,” Charles murmured, and before Erik could open his mouth to respond, to use his Gift to rivet Charles to the spot, he froze. If Erik could control his body, his eyes would have widened, but Charles held him eerily still with his power. Charles’s tears continued to flow, collecting at his chin and dripping onto the white fabric covering his torso, as he forced Erik’s fingers to loosen and drop uselessly to his side.

Erik’s heart felt _something_ wholly unfamiliar to him, something that angels so rarely felt. But Charles, Charles who was given the gift of _seeing_ and _hearing_ and _feeling_ like a human, felt all of those human emotions and more. Erik couldn’t understand it, how Charles of all people could still believe in them when he could feel all of their worst emotions and was forced to shoulder them all.

 _‘Charles! Charles! Don’t do this!’_ Erik screamed in his mind, his body non-compliant as Charles cupped Erik’s unmoving cheeks again, giving his friend a sad, grieving smile.

“Erik,” Charles whispered, hopping onto his toes to press his lips against Erik’s forehead once. Erik felt the warmth on his skin for a moment in his frozen state, his chest doing something once again, something that _ached_. The warmth was soon gone, Charles taking a step back after brushing his thumb over Erik’s cheek, where a single tear had inadvertently escaped.

“Erik, just because the humans stumble and lose their way, doesn’t mean they’re lost forever,” Charles said, giving Erik one last, lingering look before turning his back.

Erik screamed in his mind, but could only watch as Charles threw himself off the clouds and out of Heaven, descending from the skies and giving up everything for those humans that did not deserve him.

Erik knew the moment Charles’s angelic powers were ripped away from him when he found himself crumpling to his knees, Charles’s hold on his mind and body burning away to nothing.

***

When Moira clocked in for the early shift at the diner at four in the morning, it had been the same as any other day. McCone had slacked off during his uneventful nightshift and left Moira plenty of dirty tables to clean up, sauce beginning to dry into concrete on the plates and flies buzzing around. It was still pitch-black outside, the only cars in the parking lot being Moira’s beat-up Chevy and Darwin’s own rust-bucket of a car.

“What time did McCone leave today?” Moira asked Darwin, who just chuckled as he pulled his apron over his head after stamping his time card.

“The moment he saw me clock in, he bolted,” Darwin replied, Moira rolling her eyes while tying up her long brown hair into a tight ponytail.

“Figures,” Moira tutted, sharing a look with Darwin, who began preparing the kitchen. Moira, on the other hand, sighed and grabbed a large grey plastic tub, shoving dirty plates and cutlery into it and hating her miserable small-town life.

Sure, Moira knew that her life was better than most, but there was always the feeling that she could be doing more than working at a diner in her tiny town that was often forgotten on maps. Moira had always been ambitious and hard-working, and while her parents had always told her that ‘there is plenty to do in our lovely town’, Moira dreamed bigger – Moira wanted to study at a big university in the city, to become someone that could help shape the world into something better.

Unfortunately, to leave town she needed money, and there weren’t many jobs available in such a backwater place – hence the unstimulating job as a waitress in the town’s only restaurant.

It was as Moira was dumping the dirty dishes into the large commercial sink that the bell at the front door clattered, followed by hasty footsteps and a shrill “Sorry I’m late!”. Moira and Darwin just shared an amused look as Sean, a wild-haired teenager, barrelled in.

“You’re eight minutes late,” Moira said, raising a brow. “That’s actually pretty good by your standards.” Darwin chuckled and slid Sean a cup of coffee, the kid taking it gratefully and downing the watery concoction in record speed.

At that, Sean shot Moira and Darwin a newly-energised grin, quickly ducking to the back to dump his bagsand coat, before sidling up to Moira in the kitchen to clean the dishes.

Even though Moira hated her job, she didn’t mind her co-workers; Darwin, the cook, was easy to get along with and made some mean pancakes, while Sean was always energetic despite the sun not having risen yet and always managed to lighten up the dreary diner.

For the next hour, the three just cranked up the radio and danced around the otherwise empty diner. No one ever really came to the diner before six, so when the bell at the door chimed when the clock hanging above the counter just hit 5:23, the three workers nearly jumped out of their skins. Darwin quickly turned down the blasting radio, Sean hopped down from the counter and Moira cleared her throat.

A young dark-skinned woman walked into the diner wearing a short black halter-neck dress and teetering heels, hugging her dark, furry maroon coat around her slender frame. Her dark hair was slightly windswept and in disarray, eyes flittering left and right with agitation, before turning to Moira warily when she approached with her usual ‘service’ smile.

“Good morning. Table for one?” Moira asked, the woman licking her plush lips before nodding stiffly. “Okay. Would you prefer the counter or a table? We’re pretty empty, so you can take your pick. I’ll bring a menu and some water to you.” Moira vaguely waved her hand around, ducking behind the counter to pour a tall glass of water, tucking a menu under her arm.

The woman glanced around at the empty diner, before moving to the booth seat in the corner. Moira slid her water across the table and handed her the menu to peruse as the door opened again. Moira was surprised at the second arrival before six – maybe this day was panning out to be vastly different from every other day.

The person that walked in was a very gruff-looking man wearing a worn-and-torn military jacket and dark-wash jeans. His face was covered with dark hair and his brows looked like they were permanently furrowed and unable to be smoothened out. He was unfamiliar to the diner’s employees, who basically new everyone who lived in their small town.

Before Moira could greet him, the man planted himself at the bar and asked for coffee, as dark as they could make it, and a breakfast with everything in a voice that was biting and brusque. Moira let out a little snort at the man’s rudeness, but jerked her head at Sean, who went and poured the man a coffee while Darwin started cooking the man’s meal.

Turning back to the girl in the booth, Moira asked if she was ready to order, relaying the order of ‘scrambled eggs and a chocolate milkshake’ to Darwin, who gave Moira a thumbs up in response.

Before Moira could put the menu back in its place, the door opened again, revealing a young blonde man wearing a white T-shirt, jeans and leather jacket, face bleak and cool. Moira glanced at the clock – 5:52am. Christ, there were too many patrons at their backwater diner far too early in the morning.

“Morning. Take a seat anywhere, be with you in a second!” Moira called out as she poured the chocolate syrup into a tall milkshake glass, the young man nodding, before sliding into the booth by the door. After serving the chocolate milkshake, Moira walked over to the newcomer with a menu while he was on his phone, seeming to scroll through photos – one of them was of him and a slightly younger boy, the two of them smiling into the camera. Moira internally sighed at how different the man’s expression was as he sat there, desolate and weary, in the diner booth.

“Order when you’re ready,” Moira said, the man shutting off his phone and giving Moira a small smile.

Even though the morning was more lively than usual, Moira, Sean and Darwin got into the swing of things like always. It was at 6:15, when the three early patrons were all munching on their eggs and bacon, that the door opened, revealing someone that was familiar to the diner’s employees.

“Raven!” Moira said, hugging the blonde girl with a wide smile on her face. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be coming in to work!”

Raven gave Moira a sheepish smile, instinctively rubbing at her swollen and pregnant belly. Raven was 9 months pregnant now, and due to pop at any given moment, which was why she had recently taken time off work.

“I know, I know,” Raven said, bumping Sean’s fist as he leaned over the counter before Moira ushered Raven to sit down in one of the empty booths, the young woman letting out a relieved ‘phew’ when she sunk into the peeling red faux-leather. “I’m not here to work, I promise. The kid just _really_ craved Darwin’s pancakes.”

Raven fondly tapped her belly, Moira laughing.

“Right, one serve of Darwin’s pancakes coming right up. And let me guess… a strawberry shake?”

“With extra ice-cream,” Raven said, Moira smiling.

“Sure thing.”

A few more minutes ticked by, and the door opened again, revealing another familiar face.

“Heya, Hank,” Sean said, waving at the tall and lanky man, who nodded his head with a shy smile, pushing his bulky glasses higher up onto his nose. Hank scanned the diner, and when he saw the back of Raven’s fluffy blonde head, turned a shade of scarlet that made Sean snicker and Moira stifle a chuckle. Sean, Hank and Raven had all gone to high-school together, and it had been obvious even then that Hank was nursing a hefty crush on Raven.

Unfortunately, Hank never _acted_ on his crush, since he was of the notion that Raven – popular, beautiful and charismatic Raven – was out of his league. Hank was, quite simply, a geek, and had always been most comfortable in a lab or the library, while Raven was a cheerleader who also dabbled in the school’s volleyball team. Hank would never confess his affections to someone like Raven, and especially not now that she was, as the whole town knew, ‘knocked up’.

Raven’s pregnancy at a freshly ripened age of 19 had been gossip-fodder for the majority of her time being pregnant; after embarking on a road trip after graduating highschool, Raven had returned pregnant. People had tried to find out who the father was, but Raven had kept silent about it. Of course, with silence came rumours, and unfortunately lots of Raven’s so-called ‘friends’ had abandoned her in her time of crisis.

Raven, though, was stronger than anyone Hank knew, and this only made him love her more. Hank, even though he wasn’t the baby’s father and not even the object of Raven’s affections, wanted nothing more than to help her.

When Hank approached Raven’s table, the blonde smiling at him and kicking at the seat opposite her, Hank’s heart was alight.

“Hey Hank,” Raven chirped, the boy blushing and murmuring a small ‘hi’ in response. “It’s a nice morning, isn’t it?” At that, Raven looked outside at the sky that was strangely clear and devoid of any clouds, the sun beginning to rise over the distant mountains.

“Yeah, it’s a nice day,” Hank said, not looking outside but at Raven instead, soft smile on his face as the sunlight made her hair gleam more golden than usual, a halo around her beautiful face.

But oh, how wrong they were. This was not a nice day.

In fact, it was the dawn of the Apocalypse.

***

When Charles landed, he landed hard. Charles coughed out a pained breath when he collided with the dirt, dust pluming out from the crater his descent had etched into the earth. Spluttering a little, Charles waited for the dust to settle before pushing himself up to a kneeling position, groaning as pain lanced throughout his entire body.

Charles’s mind felt like it was splitting, like a hand – _His_ hand – had reached in and rearranged everything, pulling out something integral. His Gift.

It had been a long time since the world had been so silent for Charles, and it unnerved him. Charles knew that this would happen, of course – he had blatantly disobeyed His will, so of course He would take away the gifts He had bestowed upon Charles when the angel was created.

The stabbing pain in Charles’s head soon ebbed away as his mind found its bearings, but that only gave way to another searing pain that splayed out from Charles’s back. Charles let out a sobbing breath as the pain in his back made him lurch forward, head hanging down as his arms propped him up, shaking.

Carefully, Charles bit on his lip, reaching back over his shoulder to probe at his back. Charles whimpered when his fingers met a jagged lump by his shoulder blades, and without seeing his back Charles knew what it would look like.

“Oh,” Charles croaked, pulling his fingers back from the stump of his wing, blood already crusted over. Charles shuddered, breathing erratic as his mind whirled. The angel – _fallen_ angel, now – hunched over and hugged himself, struggling to catch his breath.

 _‘You knew what would happen. You knew, Charles, and you made your decision. This is necessary, this is needed. You have to stand up now,’_ Charles told himself, wiping away the dirt and tears from his face, picking himself up from the ground. It was only then that he realised he was completed nude, his white and gold attire having been ripped to shreds in his descent.

Charles, of all the angels, was the most fond of the humans and Earth. Erik had always thought his infatuation with them ridiculous, even if a millennium ago he had only said those words with a small, fond smile on his face. Now, though, Charles could just see the hurt, disapproval and betrayal etched across Erik’s stoic face when Charles, in the end, chose the humans. The smarting sores on Charles’s back was a physical reminder of that. His wingless form was a reminder that he had forsaken God and the other angels – forsaken _Erik_ – for the humans.

Even though his decision pained Charles, he did not regret it, because Charles _believed_. Charles, who had been given the Gift of peering into the souls of the beings that God had so cherished, until his faith had supposedly wavered. Yes, Charles knew of their pain, of their suffering, of their most vile potential. The images Erik had pushed at him in a final effort to change his mind were not new to the fallen angel. Charles knew of all of the evil in the world – _felt it_ – but he knew the other side of the coin as well.

Charles knew about all the _good_ in the world.

Charles, who could connect with all the minds on Earth, knew of the good there as well, just lying dormant and waiting. Unlike all of the other angels, who could only watch the humans with detached eyes, Charles could _feel_ them. Charles knew what happiness felt like, what trust and hope and _love_ felt inside a beating heart. Charles knew how it felt to be hugged by a mother, how it felt to see your child for the first time. Charles knew how it felt to laugh with friends until you all cried, Charles knew how it felt to hold the person you loved for the first time.

Charles also knew what love felt like. What _falling_ in love felt like.

That feeling was not discovered second hand like all of the others. No, that was a feeling born solely from Charles’s very being.

Charles grit his teeth and clutched at his chest that was full of Erik, but also full of _hope_.

Charles had a mission to complete, a mission that made him an enemy of all of Heaven, so he had to move quick.

That was why Charles trudged across the desert he landed in, naked like a newborn babe, to the town that was destined to be the beginning of the end – unless Charles found a way to stop it.

***

The pretty dark-haired girl in the corner booth had long-since finished her meal and milkshake, but was now sipping on a lukewarm coffee while glancing out of the window sketchily, like she was keeping an eye out for something or someone chasing her. The gruff man at the counter has since ordered a third plate of scrambled eggs, sausages and bacon while scoffing down his second helping of Darwin’s pancakes – Moira had noticed that he had added a hefty dose of what looked like whiskey into his coffee as well, the drink tucked away in a silver flash by his breast.

The young blonde man had locked himself in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes, and Moira could hear a heated conversation between him and child services, the boy hissing something muffled about a younger brother. The other boy in the picture, Moira supposed.

Hank and Raven had been chatting away in the middle booth, or at least, Raven had. Raven had regaled the entire diner about how her unborn child was going to be the most badass child the world has ever seen, and had been scrolling through her phone with a litany of potential baby names. Hank had just listened, soft smile on his face, only occasionally piping in with a ‘that’s a nice name’ or ‘what does that name mean?’. Hank spoke more when Raven asked him about the medical side of things, since Hank was studying pre-med (though he was already working his way through the medicine course on his own time, his intelligence leagues ahead of his age).

It was during a quiet lull in their conversation that the diner was plunged into silence again, the radio playing 80s hits suddenly cutting off with static. Darwin sighed, wiping his hands on his apron to knock his fist on the radio a few times, brute force usually fixing the issue. Strangely, the radio remained plunged in static, and Darwin frowned, trying to change the station to no avail.

Raven turned her head outside, a sense of unease washing over her as she noticed thick grey clouds rolling in, blanketing the sun in a shroud of darkness.

“Huh, looks like the nice weather from this morning is gone,” Raven mused, rubbing absentmindedly at her belly, the child kicking erratically. “Katie doesn’t like bad weather.”

“Katie?” Hank asked, Raven laughing a little.

“If she’s a girl,” Raven said, Hank smiling. “Well, Katherine – but I’d call her Katie. Ooh, or Kitty. Kitty is a cute name for a girl.”

“It is,” Hank said, head lolling to the side as he swooned at Raven’s round-cheeked elation. Raven opened her mouth to say something – likely about to begin spewing out boys’ names – when the girl in the corner booth swore loudly.

“Fuck! He found me,” the woman hissed, ducking down from the window with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” Moira asked, the girl dropping to the floor, like she was about to climb under the table.

“No! He found me!” the woman hissed again, voice panicked. “Fuck! How the hell did he find me so quickly?!”

Moira frowned, looking outside; a sleek black sedan with heavily tinted windows had pulled up, and a well-built man in a striped 3-piece suit stepped out of it, imposing and severely out of place in the parking lot of their ramshackle diner. Taking in the girl who was trembling in her dress, scrabbling at her fraying coat, Moira frowned further. Clearly, that guy was bad news if he could make this girl so terrified.

“Hey, follow me,” Moira said, ushering the girl behind the counter and to the back of the diner. The girl did not hesitate to follow Moira, who let her into the small staff room that had sometime turned into a store room, packed floor to ceiling with boxes. “Stay here and wait until that guy’s gone. Don’t come out until I get you.”

“Thank you, God, thank you so much,” the girl said, rubbing at her eyes and smudging her heavy eyeliner. “He’s… He’s bad news.”

“What did he do?” Moira asked, the girl blanching a little, making Moira give her a reassuring look. “I don’t mean to pry, I just think it’ll help if I know what I’m trying to kick out of the diner.”

The girl snorted out a laugh, though it wasn’t amused in the slightest.

“He’s my step-father,” the girl said, disgust and fear written all over her face. “He… He’s involved in prostitution, and…”

The girl gestured to herself, eyes growing dark. Moira’s heart bled.

“I was one of the girls he used to pimp out, but as one of the older ones he was harsher with me. I didn’t mind it, since that usually meant he didn’t hurt the younger girls as much, but he went too far. So I… I retaliated. I burned down his office and stole all of the cash he had been hoarding, giving it to the girls so they could get away from there. I ran too, obviously – but he found me,” the girl said, biting her lower lip.

“Well, shit,” Moira breathed out, cursing. “If that’s the case, then you’re definitely staying in here. Seriously, don’t come out until I let you know it’s all clear.”

“Thank you so much,” the girl said, giving Moira a watery smile. “My name’s Angel, by the way.”

“Moira,” the brown-haired woman said, flicking at the name badge pinned to the front of her ghastly yellow and blue diner uniform, smiling. “Alrighty, time to deal with a scumbag.”

Moira closed the door behind her after putting her finger to her lips in a final ‘be quiet’ motion to Angel, heading back to the front of the house. Angel’s step-father was currently leaning against the counter, hand slapping down as he snapped at Darwin and Sean.

“I know she’s here!” the man seethed, Sean’s eyes wide while Darwin remained calm as always, stepping out of the kitchen and placing a comforting hand on Sean’s shoulder.

“Sir, who are you looking for?” Darwin asked, the man’s face pulling back with a sneer. Moira smiled a little at Darwin’s perceptiveness – he had clearly gotten the general gist of the situation, and though he didn’t know the details, he had recognised that this guy was bad news and on the hunt for the terrified woman Moira had ushered to the back just moments before.

“Black, tall, skinny, pretty with long dark hair. She should be dressed like a whore,” the man said, Moira bristling. Ugh, pig.

“Sorry, Sir,” Moira said, sidling up with a deceiving sweet smile, the one she used to serve entitled customers that sometimes stumbled into their humble diner. “No one fitting that description has come to our diner, we’d know. As you can see, we don’t usually get many patrons, especially not so early in the morning.”

“Don’t lie to me, woman,” the man spat, jerking a fat finger at Moira’s face, saliva spraying. The man then slammed his hand down on the counter again, the plates clattering.

“Excuse me, Sir, but we don’t tolerate violence in our establishment. If you continue this behaviour, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Darwin said carefully, the pimp’s face going bright red, hand rising to slam back down on the counter.

Before he could, though, there was suddenly a loud ‘whack’, the pimp crumpling to the ground, knocked out cold.

“What the hell?!” Sean exclaimed, watching everything unfold with wide eyes. The other diners – the blonde boy, Hank and Raven – all watched in shock as well, eyes flittering from the pimp on the ground to the person looming over him.

Standing over him was the gruff bearded man wearing the army jacket sitting that had been at the counter. He rubbed at his knuckles, which had just a second ago made contact with the pimp’s jaw, sending him dropping like a sack of flour.

“Tsk, one punch and he’s already out? Pathetic,” the man grumbled, trudging back to his seat and shovelling some eggs into his mouth, chewing.

“What the hell just happened?” Moira exclaimed, rushing over to the unconscious pimp, checking for a pulse. He was still alive (barely), but it was obvious that his nose was broken and oozing a crimson puddle on Moira’s freshly scrubbed floors. Getting up, Moira glared at the man sitting at the counter who was eating his breakfast like he hadn’t just knocked a man out. “You just assaulted him!”

“He deserved it,” the man shrugged callously. “He was obviously an asshole.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can just go assaulting him! He’s unconscious!”

“Yeah, but now he’s not a problem,” the man said, cracking a grin that was a little feral. “You can thank me with another cup of coffee.”

“Oh, Christ,” Moira groaned, looking at Darwin. “Darwin, call an ambulance or something. And Sean, can you get this guy over to the corner, or one of the booths?”

Sean looked like he would honestly rather do anything else, which Moira thought was understandable - the kid hadn’t taken the dishwashing job to lug around fully-grown unconscious pieces of shit, but this was a strange day.

When the man – still unconscious – was tucked away in the corner, Moira went back to Angel, who jumped when Moira opened the door.

“Is he gone?” Angel asked quickly, Moira biting her lip.

“Uh, well, that’s one way to put it?” Moira offered, Angel giving her a confused look. “You can see for yourself.”

The two women walked out, and Angel gasped when she saw her step-father slumped on the floor, blood oozing from his broken nose.

“Who did that!?” Angel asked, eyes wide. The offender snorted, waving a hand briefly. Angel, still a little shell-shocked, pushed out an incredulous laugh. “Well, thanks. I only expected him to get kicked out, not… _knocked_ out.”

“He seemed like he deserved it,” the bearded man said, Angel laughing.

“Yeah, he did,” she said softly, walking over to the man at the counter. “I’m Angel. I don’t really know how to repay you, but I could buy you another coffee?”

“Logan,” the man grunted, pushing his empty mug of coffee across the counter. “And you can thank me by buying me two.”

“Deal,” Angel said, beaming as she waved Moira over, who was exasperated by their disregard for the fact that there was a man bleeding all over her floor.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Moira grumbled, just as Darwin hung up the corded phone mounted on the wall.

“Hey, the landline seems to be down,” Darwin said, Moira throwing her hands up in frustration.

“Just another thing to worry about! It’s clearly not enough that we have an unconscious pimp on the floor!”

“Hey, my cellphone isn’t working either. Like, there’s no signal,” Sean said, tapping at his phone with a frown on his face.

“Huh, weird – I’m not getting any cell service either,” Raven said, leaning over to see if Hank had any. His phone had zero bars as well.

“Is it because of the storm that’s starting outside?” Moira asked after checking her own phone, which wasn’t any better. Everyone looked outside at Moira’s comment, the sky now completely dark – it was only 6:45 in the morning, but it felt more like the dead of the night. In the gaps in the clouds was an odd silvery sheen, like constant, noiseless lightning, which cast disconcerting shadows across the barren desert outside of the diner.

“It’s just clouds, there’s no rain or thunder that would disrupt all the cell towers, let alone the land line,” Hank said, fiddling with his phone.

“Hey, Sean, do you want to make a quick run to the sheriff? Ask what’s going on?” Moira said, Sean nodding and pulling off his apron. As the boy headed to the door, he had to pass by the unconscious pimp, who suddenly jerked, making Sean scream shrilly.

“The hell, dude?!” Sean screeched, jumping back. The pimp’s eyes flickered open, Angel’s mouth opening in a silent, terrified scream, scuttling back behind the counter. Logan narrowed his eyes at the pimp, who was picking himself up from the floor sluggishly, head hanging low.

The pimp’s head then snapped up abruptly, eyes glassy. His gaze flittered across the diner, looking at Logan, then Darwin, then Moira, Sean and Angel – Angel tensed, about to run, but strangely, her step-father looked right past her. His eyes flitted to the blonde boy by the door, then Hank, and then…

When the man’s eyes fixed onto Raven, the girl bristling and cradling her baby bump instinctively, the man smiled, showing teeth reddened with blood.

The pimp suddenly lunged forward at Raven, who screamed. Hank also yelled, tripping out of the booth to block the man’s path, but the pimp was suddenly on the ground again when Logan kicked out his leg, landing a blow to the pimp’s side.

The man flailed to the ground, limbs flying and an odd screeching sound erupting from his throat.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Angel asked, trembling. “He… He didn’t even see me. Recognise me.”

“And why did he run after me?!” Raven yelled, gripping onto Hank’s arm, the lanky boy’s mouth pressed in a tight line, hands balled into fists.

“Guess my first punch knocked his brain loose,” Logan said, smirking. Everyone just gave Logan an odd look, but couldn’t say anything when the pimp on the ground suddenly jerked again, spasming. Logan looked a little surprised, staring at the man writhing on the ground. “Jesus, he’s pretty sturdy. That should’ve knocked him out cold.”

The pimp suddenly twisted onto his back, arms bending and bending and bending… until his tendons snaps and joints dislodged. Everyone watched, horrified, as the man’s legs did the same, contorting into something that was definitely not normal.

“Oh my God, what the fuck?!” Sean said, grabbing a frying pan hanging on the wall and holding it up like a bat. “Is the dude possessed?! Arms aren’t supposed to bend like that!”

As Sean spoke, the man whirled around, eyes staring at Raven with fixed focus. The man scuttled forward on all fours, making everyone except Darwin and Logan scream – the latter darted forward, kicking the pimp again, sending him crashing against the wall.

But, just as everyone thought that things would quieten, they only got worse – the moment the pimp hit the wall, he began climbing _up_ it on all fours, nails digging in and leaving bloody indentations into the wall as he climbed like a spider up the off-white plaster.

“The Exorcist! This is the fucking Exorcist! The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!” Sean shrieked, waving his frying pan in the air frantically.

“Oh my God!” Moira cried out as Raven screamed, hauled to her feet by Hank and tugging her behind him.

“What the fuck is in your coffee?!” the blonde man hollered, grabbing his empty plate and smashing it over the pimp’s head as he – _it_ – leapt off the wall and landed on his table. The young man let out a yell as he punched the pimp in the face, grunting in pain as his hand collided, the pimp’s head snapping to the side with the motion, but otherwise unphased. The blonde boy’s eyes widened then the pimp’s mouth pulled into a smile.

“Oh, shit!” the boy yelled as the demonically possessed pimp shot forward, knocking him onto the ground before aiming for Raven again.

“Someone get him!” Raven yelled, hugging her pregnant belly as Hank pushed her back behind the counter, grabbing the frying pan from Sean and slamming it against the pimp’s face, the collision of metal and bone echoing around the diner.

“Help me hold him down!” Logan yelled, slamming his burly body down onto the screeching demon-man, struggling to keep him down alone. “Hey! You guys, get the hell over here!”

The blonde man reacted first, sliding on his knees and grabbing onto the pimp’s arm, almost throwing up when he could feel the pimp’s joints bending backwards. Hank dropped down as well, grabbing a leg while Darwin seized the other one.

“Someone knock him out!” Logan barked out, Angel suddenly running into the kitchen and grabbing a heavy cast-iron griddle, raising it above her head with something that resembled a war cry and slamming it down on her step-father’s head.

_Thunk._

The demonic man stopped writhing, the three men holding him down not releasing him immediately, but only after he had stopped thrashing for a whole minute. Getting up from the ground, Hank was shaking, while Darwin had a deep frown etched on his face and Logan took a hefty swig from his beat-up flask.

When he swallowed, Logan pat the mysterious blonde boy on the back.

“Nice punch earlier, kid,” Logan said, the blonde man huffing.

“My name’s Alex, not kid.”

“Sure, whatever you say, _kid_ ,” Logan said, taking another drink as Moira leaned on the counter to steady herself.

“What the _hell_ was that thing?” Moira asked as Raven sobbed, burying herself into Hank’s chest, the man freezing in surprise before tentatively wrapping his arms around the blonde girl.

 _“It would be more accurate to ask ‘what the_ Heaven _was that thing’, my dear.”_

Everyone turned, startled, to the voice that came from across the room. Standing in front of the door was an unfamiliar man that was, truly, beauty incarnate. Milky skin awash with a light smattering of freckles like constellations, sinful red lips, azure eyes and silken brown hair. He wore a slightly tight lilac V-neck sweater covered with a grey tweed coat and matching grey trousers. Strangely, his feet were bare.

From where they stood, they could see that the man was on the shorter side, but something about him filled up the entire room.

“Another weirdo?” Alex muttered, the newcomer’s lips quirking up slightly, seemingly amused. The man stepped across the floor, skirting around the small pool of blood where Logan had broken the pimp’s nose the first time, hopping lightly over the shards of the plate Alex had smashed earlier.

“I’d step away from him, if I were you,” the man said, voice lilting with a thick English accent, and despite being so soft and gentle, its weight made everyone – even Logan – jump away from the man on the ground. Just as they did so, the demon twitched, Raven screaming again.

“The hell, he’s still not down?!” Sean yelled, the man wearing the lilac sweater letting out a short sigh, reaching behind him to pull out a hand gun, pointing it down at the demon at his feet.

 _“What are you doing, Charles?”_ the demon man spoke, voice trilling, _inhuman_. _“These weren’t your orders.”_

“I’m sorry, Brother,” the man said solemnly, before pulling the trigger. Red sprayed everywhere – across the floor, up against the walls, on Logan’s shoes. Raven seemed to stop breathing, swaying on her feet and Hank letting out a strangled noise as he caught her in his arms. Moira’s mouth was wide open, mind static like the radio, and Sean had fallen onto his ass in shock. Darwin stared silently at the scene unfolding before him, Alex cursing loudly and staggering back, while Logan just looked at the seemingly demure man with narrowed eyes.

Logan had killed men before, many of them, in fact. He had killed men in warzones from a distance with his rifles, and had felt the life bleed out of some of them when he strangled their necks. Logan was used to killing, and he knew what a killer looked like.

How strange was it, then, that when he looked at the man before him, he didn’t have the stink of a murderer?

In fact, the man looked all too pure in the way he held himself. Untainted, even if his hand was on a smoking gun and a little blood has splashed onto his bare feet. The man’s blue eyes shone with tears, but not of fear, regret or anger.

No, he was a man that looked like he was grieving.

“You just killed a man!” Moira suddenly said, rushing to the phone that didn’t even work, punching in 911 over and over.

“I assure you, Moira, that he was not a man. At least, not now,” the man holding the gun said calmly, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants.

“You know my name,” Moira said, eyes wide. The barefooted man just smiled, tilting his head in what looked like a greeting nod.

“Yes, I know all of your names, actually,” the man said, turning to Logan. “You’re James Howlett, or I suppose you prefer Logan. And you’re Alexander Summers, Sean Cassidy, Henry – or Hank – McCoy, Angel Salvadore, Armando Muñoz and… Raven Darkholme.” The man’s voice softened as he spoke the last girl’s name, looking a little wistful.

“Are you a spy or something?” Sean asked, spluttering. “Or psychic?!” The mystery man chuckled a little, shaking his head.

“No,” Charles said, clasping his hands in front of him, eyes closing for a moment, before opening them again. “And I’ll explain everything, but we have to deal with _them_ first.”

“Them?” Darwin asked, Charles turning to the window.

“Oh, _please_ tell me he doesn’t have friends,” Angel said, grimacing at the body of her dead step-father.

“No, not friends,” Charles said, giving her a sad look. “ _Brothers and Sisters.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope you're enjoying the beginning of this little fic so far :) Any feedback would be much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

_“At that time Charles, the great prince who protects your people, will arise._   
_There will be a time of distress such as has not happened from the beginning of nations until then._   
_But at that time your people—everyone whose name is found written in the book—will be delivered.”_

_Daniel 12:1_

Erik’s mind was always like a beacon to Charles. It was so bright that Charles could pinpoint its location anywhere, in any plane in existence, if he only closed his eyes and envision the seemingly glacial man.

Right now, that beacon was glowing like hot embers, anger radiating from the angel as he sat perched on a mottled rooftop at Auschwitz. Erik watched with rage bubbling in his belly as walking skeletons stumbled to their deaths, the numbers etched into their skin stark against their frailty.

“Erik,” Charles said, landing daintily beside the taller angel, white robs fluttering. Erik, unlike Charles, wore his dark battle leathers, his winged helmet resting beside him on the roof tiles.

“Look at them, Charles,” Erik said, voice simmering with anger and disgust – not at the prisoners, of course, but at the men that chained them and treated them like they were less than cattle. Charles shivered, lowering himself so he sat beside Erik, their wings bumping with their closeness. “Look at what they do to themselves, to their own kind.”

Charles swallowed thickly, the air thick and dense with misery, making it hard for him to think clearly. Charles has gotten good at blocking out such powerful emotions, he had to be – if he let go, he could hear all of the voices in the world at once, and he was sure it would overwhelm him. It _had_ overwhelmed him, a long time ago, and Erik had been there for him.

But even as Charles became stronger as time passed, the human population was growing exponentially and the world population much more vast than it had been when He had only created the first two humans; En Sabah Nur and Nephri. Now, humans were many and more, and though Charles had an eternity of experience in bolstering the strength of his Gift, the constant influx of new minds weighed heavily on him.

Erik’s mind was unlike those of others, human and angel alike. It wasn’t that Erik’s mind was empty nor calm that made his mind so comforting to Charles. No, Erik’s mind could be tumultuous at times and infinitely impassioned, even if on the exterior his face was cut like cool marble, the tight line of his thin lips the only feature that betrayed his internal rage.

No, Erik’s mind could be as passionate and wild as anyone else’s, but it was the _way_ in which it was passionate that Charles so cherished. Erik’s mind was always unclouded, always clear; other people could be muddled, lost and confused, but Erik’s was always so sure and resolute. So bright. Erik’s mind never faltered, and that always made him a steady anchor for Charles to latch on to when other voices threatened to overwhelm him.

“Yes, I can feel their agony, their suffering,” Charles said, voice quiet, face pinched with pain. Erik turned to look at Charles then, eyes softening slightly.

“That pain, how could humans willingly cause such torment?” Erik murmured, reaching out to overlay his hand on Charles’s, squeezing tightly. “These humans, they haven’t learnt, even after centuries and millennia. They still hurt and torture each other, and torture _you_ with their pain and suffering.”

Erik’s hands trembled as he spoke his last words, clipped and bitter. Charles felt a spike in Erik’s vehemence.

Charles just let out a short hum, leaning into Erik’s side, and dropped his head onto the taller angel’s shoulder. Erik’s armour dug into his cheek a little, but Charles didn’t mind – Erik felt warm, as warm as an angel could feel – but maybe that was just the way his mind was enveloping Charles in an embrace, warming him from the soul his angel self did not possess.

Charles and Erik watched as a young Jewish boy tripped in the mud as his mother and father screamed for him, the gates closing slowly in front of his glistening eyes. The young boy cried out, rushing forward but was stopped by the hands of officers clad in stiffly starched uniforms. The boy’s knees dragged in the mud as he desperately called out for his parents who were being shepherded to their deaths. The boy yelled and yelled, but the gate still closed.

Erik’s fists clenched tightly, and the gate rattled a little, but nothing more than what could be passed off as a tremor due to a light breeze.

Charles’s eyes locked onto the forlorn boy, whose mind was like a knife twisting in Charles’s chest. As an angel, Charles did not have parents, not like humans did. Charles didn’t know first-hand what a bond between child and parent was, how a mother’s embrace felt, what a father’s protective touch meant. It was only through sharing the minds and souls of humans that Charles could understand, and it made him weep.

“Oh, Erik. That boy… his mind… what he feels…” Charles sobbed, turning his head away from the boy whose feelings were mirrored in his chest. Charles buried his head in the curve of Erik’s neck, the other angel a little stiff but wrapping his arms around Charles’s shoulders tightly nonetheless. Erik could feel a wetness seeping through the seams of his armour, but he didn’t care, not when Charles’s trembling made what could be his heart stutter and clench.

“How could humans do this to you?” Erik murmured, pulling Charles closer, breathing in the scent of his hair. Sunlight. “And how could you be so willing to bear it? To believe in them and love them, even when they hurt you like this?”

Charles let out a shuddering breath, pulling his head back to return to the scene playing out before him. The officers had let go of the young boy, who sat unmoving with his head hung, despair cloying around him. Charles watched as a young girl around the same age as him knelt by his side and gently chook his shoulders, murmuring in his ear. The boy nodded minutely, allowing the girl to slip her arm around him, pulling him to his feet. She smiled at him, urged him, gave him _hope._

And Charles, tears still in his eyes, smiled, the clouds parting overhead.

Erik wasn’t looking down at the camp but at Charles, whom Erik thought was made of the same energy as the sun that now peeked through the break in the clouds.

“ _That_ , Erik,” Charles whispered, voice light and diffuse with warmth.

_‘That is why I still believe.’_

***

“Alex, Moira – barricade the windows. Hank, find anything we can use as weapons and gather them here. Sean, make sure that the back door is blocked, too. Logan, come with me,” the mysterious murderer – _Charles_ – said, and even if he was pushy, his voice carried a sense of _‘this is absolute_ ’ that made everyone jump into action. Before Charles lead Logan outside to his ~~stolen~~ borrowed car, Charles looked at Raven, who had since regained her wits, sitting in the corner booth and drinking a glass of sugar-laden juice.

“Raven,” Charles said, voice gentle. The woman startled, but didn’t shy away from the man, who was looking at her so carefully. For some reason, Raven sensed – _knew_ – that this Charles fellow wouldn’t hurt her. Never. Still, Raven narrowed her eyes at him, but the man just continued to smile.

“What?” Raven asked, taking another sip of her drink and rubbing her belly.

“How are you? And your child?” Charles asked, Raven snorting.

“Well, we just saw a man dislocate his limbs in ways that are reminiscent of The Exorcist, and I saw said guy get his brain blown to bits. Those brain bits are still on the wall, you know. Like a bloody, gory, Jackson Pollock painting,” Raven said, shivering. “So, how do you think we’re going?”

Charles smiled, a little wryly to himself – if he still had his Gift, he would know _exactly_ how Raven was feeling. But alas, without it, Charles was left stumped. Angels were more unfamiliar with feelings than humans with low EQ, and though Charles was more empathetic due to his Gift, he was simply blind without it.

“Ah, I see. That is… understandable,” Charles said, Raven raising her brow. “I hope that it brings you comfort to know that I’m here to protect you.” Charles smiled at Raven, who just gave him a confused and wary look. Charles turned to Logan before Raven could ask him exactly what he was protecting her from, the mystery man patting Logan’s arm.

“Come, Logan. I have some equipment in my car that would be of use to us,” Charles said, Logan grunting in response and trailing after the shorter, barefoot man.

When they stepped outside, dust swirling in the unnatural darkness, Logan spoke.

“So, Chuck, care to inform me about what the hell is going on?” Logan said, Charles humming.

“I still question why everyone uses ‘Hell’ as a curse. I suppose it makes sense in another context, but this is the apocalypse spearheaded by Him, so ‘Hell’ doesn’t quite fit the bill. But, I assure you, Logan – I’ll explain everything in due time. Time, which is short as it is, so we better get moving,” Charles said, bumping his fist on the boot of his commandeered car, the metal opening up to reveal bags of… weapons. Logan whistled, Charles letting out a small laugh.

“Where’d you scrounge all this up?”

Logan peered at the man beside him, who was busy pulling out a bag of machine guns and ammo. This man, with a disarming baby-face, who was wearing a scratchy tweed suit and a _lilac_ sweater, for God’s sake. Logan felt like this man belonged in an office or a lecture hall, not in the middle of a desert with blood speckling his bare feet and a bag of AK-47s slung over his shoulder.

“Well, I just picked up a few things here and there on my way here,” Charles said, shrugging. “Now, could you so kindly help me carry our provisions in?”

Logan didn’t hesitate to grab the rest of the weapons from the boot, the two of them hauling them inside just as the rest of the group had finished boarding up the windows. Darwin emerged from the back room with a shelf, propping it up against the door after Charles and Logan returned.

“Woah,” Sean said, staring as Logan and Charles dumped the small armoury of weapons onto one of the booth tables. Hank, who had returned from scouring the kitchen for anything weapon-like, looked gobsmacked as he looked at the range of guns on the table, the kitchen knives and frying pan in his arms suddenly dead weight.

“I guess we won’t need the saucepan then…” Hank said, dumping the knives onto the table a bit sheepishly. Charles smiled at him, plucking one of the larger knives and twirling it in his hands, the blade whizzing around with practised finesse. Everyone just stared at him as he played with the knife, nodding.

“Mm. Very sturdy craftsmanship, I must say,” Charles said, throwing the knife and catching it, blade-side cradled in his palm. Sean clapped wildly, whistling. Charles handed Hank the knife, handle forwards, the taller man taking it shakily. “Now, guns are probably more efficient, but the knives will be good if we need to resort to close combat.”

Charles’s smile quickly fell from his face as he winced, letting out a quiet groan.

“What is it?” Angel asked, Charles shaking his head.

“They’re here,” Charles said, quickly grabbing guns and passing them around. “Now, who’s used a gun before?”

Logan, Alex, Darwin, Angel and Raven raised their hands. Hank shook his head.

“Do water guns count?” Sean asked, Moira elbowing him in the side, giving him an incredulous look as the boy glowered. “No for me, then.”

“I used a gun at a range once, but that’s it,” Moira said, Charles nodding.

“Better a little experience than none at all. Now, there’s going to be a bit of a steep learning curve, but here’s how you use a gun,” Charles said, grabbing Moira’s hands and wrapping them around an M4 Carbine. “Okay, safety here, aim…” Charles said, stepping around to stand behind Moira, arms wrapped around her as he held her hand. Moira sucked in a tight breath. “And – Raven, please cover your ears – _shoot._ ”

Charles pressed the trigger, bullets spraying against the wall. Plaster flew into the air and the gun-shots made most of the group shriek, covering their ears (apart from Raven, who had already plugged her ears with her fingers). Logan was unphased and just checked the ammo of his own weapon.

“And that’s how you use a gun. Well done,” Charles said, patting Moira on the back, the woman trembling like a leaf.

“A little warning, next time!” Sean whined, Charles chuckling.

“My apologies, but time is unfortunately a luxury we don’t have,” Charles lamented, nudging Logan. “Logan, how good of a shot are you?”

“Three tours in Iraq, rifle marksmanship medal, some other shiny shit too,” Logan said, Charles beaming.

“Wonderful! Then, I’d suggest you get on the roof to them out before they get too close. Raven, Hank, you two should stay safe in the back because of the child. The rest of you should go up to the roof as well,” Charles said as he began ushering Raven carefully into the secure office, shoving the junk off the worn sofa so she could sit. Raven looked at Charles gratefully, while Hank looked at the gun Charles shoved into his hands.

“Hank, protect Raven, alright?” Charles said, Hank nodding frantically while Raven huffed a little, blonde hair flipping over her shoulder.

“I’m _pregnant_ , not helpless,” Raven said, crossing her arms over her chest. Charles gave her a soft look.

“Of course not,” Charles said, meaning every word of it. “But that doesn’t mean you or your child should be put in needless danger. But here, take this, just in case.”

Charles handed Raven a hand gun, the young woman taking it firmly. Charles chuckled as she deftly checked the ammo, gun mechanism sliding and clicking. Patting the anxious Hank on the shoulder in parting support, Charles lead the rest of the group to the roof. Logan immediately set up the sniper rifle he had carried up in a bag, lowering himself down on the roof and looking through its scope. Alex, Sean, Moira, Darwin and Angel followed suit, their rifles pressed against their shoulders, eyes nervously darting out into what seemed like a desert abyss.

“Aren’t you going to tell us _what’s_ coming?” Moira asked, turning to glance at Charles, who stood upright and proud on the edge of the roof, gun slung across his chest.

“Angels,” Charles whispered, the word carried away by the wind. Everyone looked at the man, bug-eyed.

“ _Angels_ ,” Sean repeated, glancing at Angel, who rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look at me, man. That’s just the name my parents gave me,” Angel said.

“ _Angels_. As in, God’s messengers?” Darwin asked, Charles chuckling.

“Yes, those angels,” Charles repeated, eyes narrowing as he raised his gun.

“You’re sure you don’t mean demons? Because that dead dude downstairs… He wasn’t wearing a toga and I didn’t see a halo,” Sean said, Moira elbowing him in the side again.

“Don’t rely on popular culture. What’s coming are definitely _not_ demons,” Charles said, blue eyes seeing far into the distance, where a blip of light peeked through the dim. Logan noticed it as well, shifting his sights to the moving light. “Logan, what do you see?”

Logan was silent for a moment, peering through his scope, before letting out a snort.

“An ice cream truck,” Logan said.

“An ice cream truck? What, like a Mr Whippy?” Alex said, raising an eye brow.

As the ice cream truck neared, its catchy tune became audible through the silent night – the ice cream jingle made the hairs on the necks of the humans stand up straight, a chilled shiver running down taut spines.

“This is some horror movie shit,” Sean whispered, Alex nodding in agreement.

“An angel driving an ice cream truck though? This is a joke, right?” Angel asked, everyone staring at the approaching ice cream truck, which stopped in front of the diner. Its lights stayed on, but the jingle cut off when the driver’s side door opened with a clatter.

Two legs encased in a bright yellow and red polka-dot jumpsuit stepped out, revealing a slender man with an angular and slightly gaunt face, pompom covered hat perched on his head.

“He looks normal,” Darwin said, Logan letting out a bark of a laugh.

“So did that guy downstairs, kid.”

“Fair enough,” Darwin sighed, the ice cream man stepping forwards in the headlights of the car, casting dark shadows across the ground.

“What do we d-” Alex started, just before the ice cream man began to scream, a high-pitched whine that echoed across the desert. The noise was shrill, and nothing human vocal cords could ever reproduce, even Sean, who was a self-professed King of Karaoke. Angel let out a startled noise when the ice cream man’s jaw seemed to dislocate and _stretch_ , falling downdowndown as he continued to scream. His arms began to elongate, as did his legs, his whole body stretching and stretching into something skeletal and utterly grotesque.

“Holy shit! He doesn’t look normal anymore!” Sean cried out, just as Charles began shooting, spraying bullets down at the man. The screeching continued as bullets riddled the man’s polka-dot suit, body jerking backwards before falling into the dust. His deformed mouth opened and closed a few times with rickety breaths before stilling completely.

“Oh God, you just killed another person,” Moira breathed out, finger shaking on the trigger. Looking up at Charles, who was still perched on the edge of the roof, Moira was surprised to see that the man had tears running down his face, though he did not sob. Charles’s beautiful face was still and serene, and Moira would’ve thought he were a statue if not for the way the tears slid down his face and the gentle sway of his chestnut hair as the wind ran its fingers through the thick locks.

“You okay, Chuck?” Logan asked, sparing a glance at Charles, who wiped at his eyes with his tweed sleeve and nodded.

“Yes, thank you,” Charles said quietly, eyes still locked onto the horizon. “And they aren’t ‘people’ any more. At least, not what you consider ‘people’.”

 _‘They’re my brothers and sisters,’_ Charles thought sadly to himself, reloading his gun, spent shell casings rolling around and cooling on the rooftop by Charles’s feet.

Logan suddenly whistled, everyone bristling.

“More lights in the distance,” Logan said flatly, twisting something on his scope.

“How many?” Darwin asked, Logan’s mouth pulling into a grin bordering the line of deranged.

“A shit load.”

Logan was right – a procession of lights began emerging from the cloudy fog that had descended on the desert down, Alex cursing at the sight.

“Shoot them,” Charles said, everyone besides Logan hesitating. Logan fired a shot, one of the cars skidding to the side and colliding with another, bursting into flames. Charles began firing as well, cars skidding and swerving.

“There are people in those cars!” Angel said, as the cars that weren’t hit by Charles and Logan pulled in with screeching tires in front of the diner, their drivers pouring out of them like ants.

“They aren’t people anymore!” Charles yelled out over the sound of his and Logan’s bullets, the beings beneath them screeching and rushing at the diner. At the inhuman noises erupting from the invading mouths – mouths belonging to people that looked like plumbers, grandmothers, shopkeepers, children and businessmen – Alex yelled out and began firing. Darwin followed suit, as did Angel.

The bodies rushing in twisted and morphed, turning into terrifying caricatures of human beings – mouths gaping abysses, limbs long like spiders, eyes black as death itself. No, it was obvious that these invaders weren’t people, not the ones their bodies used to be, at least.

“Keep shooting them! I’m going down to make sure Raven and Hank are okay!” Charles said as he began to notice some of the angels beginning to make it past their line of fire, approaching the barricaded windows of the diner. Logan nodded in affirmation, Charles darting back down the stairs and into the diner, just as one of the angels had crashed through the window.

Charles gritted his teeth, firing his weapon. The angel was fast, scuttling across the ground and along the walls, leaping as it screamed through the mortal body that it stole.

 _‘Charles!’_ the angel yelled, hurtling its crab-like form at the fallen angel, who turned his guns towards it, shooting it in the shoulder. That didn’t deter his sister though, the angel in the body of what appeared to be a youthful cheerleader jumping off the ground, tackling Charles.

Charles grunted when his back collided with the floor, a shard of a broken plate slicing his shoulder. Charles hissed and rolled, throwing his spent gun away and taking the hand gun out from his pants, firing. A bullet whizzed into the ceiling, another into the faux-leather booth, sending fluffy white seat stuffing puffing into the air.

The angel screeched again and clawed at Charles, fingers smashing down into the ground with inhuman strength, Charles grimacing.

 _‘Disobeyer! Traitor!’_ the angel screamed at Charles, large maw snapping at the fallen angel who rolled again and brought his knee up to pommel his sister in the gut. The rabid angel skidded on the ground and righted itself quickly – but Charles was quicker, gun out and aimed at the angel’s crown.

“I’m sorry,” Charles said, squeezing the trigger. The angel fell back with the bullet’s blow, red oozing out onto the ground. Charles bit his lip as he looked at his fallen sister, mouth moving in a silent prayer, just as a window smashed behind him.

Whirling around, Charles raised his hand, but he had moved too slowly and too late – one of his brothers had thrown themselves through the window, teeth bared at Charles and about to tear out his jugular.

At least, it would have, if not for the bullets colliding with its temple and chest. Two rapid bangs lanced through the air, the angel skidding to a stop by Charles’s bare feet.

Charles turned to the source of the noise, surprise colouring his angelic face.

Raven was there, smoke still curling from the gun in her hands, eyes focused and brow determined. Hank hurtled out after her, gun awkwardly held in his hands, and his eyes widened behind his glasses when he saw the carnage in the diner.

“Oh God,” Hank said, wobbling a little on his legs, wrenching his eyes from the dead bodies on the ground.

“I told you I wasn’t helpless,” Raven said, giving Charles a small smile, which he returned.

“No wonder it’s you,” Charles said, Raven tilting her head to the side questioningly, before her eyes widened and her body keened over. Charles rushed forward as Raven bent, a pained gasp leaving her parted mouth as she clutched her stomach. “Raven! What’s wrong?”

“Raven!” Hank chorused, rushing behind the pregnant woman to support her, arm looped around her torso to help hold her upright.

“No, I’m fine,” Raven pushed out, waving her hand in the air. “The baby… The baby just kicked. Hard.”

“He’s a fighter,” Charles said, chuckling. “Like his mother.”

“He?” Raven echoed, curious. “How do you know it’s a he? I never confirmed the gender.”

Charles just smiled as there was a flurry of footsteps coming down the stairs, the group on the rooftop flooding into the ripped-up diner.

“Look at the mess!” Moira exclaimed, almost on the verge of tears. “I… I just mopped the floors this morning!”

“That’s the least of your concerns right now, Moira,” Angel said, mouth quirking up in a little amusement, despite the situation.

“They’re running,” Logan reported to Charles, nodding his head out the window. Charles hummed, shoulders seeming to loosen slightly.

“Well, it seems we have earned a moment of reprieve,” Charles said, walking over to one of the booths, brushing off a seat and setting himself down on it. Charles looked at the group before him, patting the expanse of faux-leather beside him. “Now, take a seat and rest your weary legs. I suppose it’s time for an explanation.”

***

Charles and Erik sat on a beach, wings resting in the golden sand. It was 1962, though time often seemed to blend into an incoherent expanse in their long existence.

“They were gifted with so much intelligence, and yet they use it to create tools of death and destruction,” Erik spat, standing up. Erik’s feet, clad in battle leather, did not leave any imprints in the sand as he stalked towards the water, wings unfurling in his anger.

Charles quickly got up too, following his closest friend across the sand to where the waves lapped at the shore.

A swarm of ships drifted across the sea – Russians and Americans – and were locked in a tense stand still. Charles could feel their fear and uncertainty swirling over the waves, their endless questions, the wondering if this was going to be their end. Charles knew it wouldn’t be, not yet, because He had not willed it to be so. But, these events were beginning to test His patience, Charles could feel it.

“What are their minds thinking, Charles?” Erik asked, grey eyes hard. “I can never understand them. What compels them to act like this? To make these choices that will only end in the destruction of their kind?”

“They are afraid, Erik,” Charles said, stepping to stand side-by-side with his fellow angel, who snorted.

“Afraid,” Erik repeated, Charles nodding. “I do not know what that is.”

Charles huffed, turning away from the stalemate of ships and their bombs, instead choosing to look at the profile of his friend. In the Cuban sunlight, Erik’s hair appeared more copper than brown, and at the angle of the noon sunlight his cheekbones were more angular than normal, making his jaw appear sharper. Charles always teased the man that he was the inspiration for the Italian statues of old, the old masters using the beautiful planes of Erik’s face and body as a model for the statues of their kind. Erik just snorted, but his eyes always lit up like the stars whenever Charles waxed lyrical about him.

“Fear is not exclusive to humans, Erik. Angels can feel fear, too, just not as often. We haven’t been given many opportunities to fear with our immortality and power,” Charles said, Erik beginning to grin, showing a flash of white teeth.

“Yes, because He made us powerful. More powerful than the humans, who die so easily yet spend their lives so recklessly. Compared to the foolish, _foolish_ humans, it’s clear that we are superior, is it not, Charles?”

“My friend, you know I don’t believe that,” Charles said, placing his hand on Erik’s bicep, squeezing the taut muscle there. “We are not superior, nor are they inferior. They just don’t see like we do, Erik. Their lives are short compared to ours, their collective knowledge is eons shorter than what we have already experienced. We… We see things from above. We don’t live with our feet on the ground like them, with their emotions. Even I, who has the Gift to feel what they feel, only do it second hand. They live with their feelings, _by_ their feelings. That is a power in itself, Erik. One that, I must admit, I find amazing.”

“Careful, Charles. It almost sounds like you are envious of the humans,” Erik said, glancing down at the man by his side, who just chuckled, stepping in front of Erik to dip his bare feet into the sun-kissed water.

“No, not envious, my friend. Just awed,” Charles said, gazing out across the sea. Charles listened – _felt_ – at once; Charles was the Russian soldier longing for the conflict to end to be reunited with his infant daughter, and he was an American shipman twisting his new wedding band around his finger, praying that what he does today will protect the future for his wife at home. Most of the people on those ships, they all made decisions based on their hearts – of course, there were the few whose minds were tainted with darkness, but in the end, most of the men out there wanted to protect their countries and the people they loved that lived within them. That was a warm feeling that made Charles tingle, warming him up from the inside.

They just couldn’t see that the other side wanted the same thing.

“Awed at the humans who are ruled by fear?” Erik asked, Charles turning, wings dragging in the water.

“You don’t understand because you have never known true fear, Erik,” Charles said, Erik rolling his eyes.

“What do I have to fear?”

Charles just smiled, shrugging.

“Your fears are your own, my friend.”

“And you? You have fears that are your own? Fears that the humans don’t force upon you?”

Charles looked at Erik, deep into his blue-grey eyes, before dropping his gaze, the look in Erik’s eyes burning too bright.

“Yes, I have fears that are my own,” Charles said gently, stepping further into the water until it lapped at his thighs, the white fabric he wore billowing out languidly.

_‘I fear that we will be torn apart one day.’_

***

“So, angels,” Raven said, voice monotone. Hank’s mouth dropped open, having only heard this for the first time, unlike those on the rooftop. Still, hearing it for a second time didn’t make it any easier to digest.

“Yes, angels,” Charles repeated, Moira and Sean returning to the table with trays full of hot coffees and marshmallows. The group all took a cup each, but only Charles blinked as Moira placed a steaming cup in front of him. Curiously, Charles pulled the mug towards him, taking a careful sip – Charles had never consumed anything before, his body not needing human food for sustenance. But, now he had fallen, and Charles did not know what he was any more.

Charles decided that he didn’t particularly like this concoction called coffee, but that he did not mind the sweetness of the fluffy marshmallows that were like the clouds at home. Erik would probably prefer the coffee, though – the thought made Charles’s chest squeeze tightly.

“I suppose I should start from the beginning,” Charles said, pushing his coffee away and nibbling on another pink marshmallow. Everyone around the table nodded, the coffee forgotten as they listened attentively. 

“The last time God lost faith in man, he sent a flood,” Charles said, breaths hitching all around the table. “This time, he sent what you saw outside.”

“So, this is the apocalypse? Is that what you’re saying?” Alex asked, coffee cup thudding on the table.

“Hm, I suppose so. That’s what you all call it. At this point, it’s more like an ‘extermination’,” Charles said, smiling wryly.

“What, so we’re like cockroaches? Pests?” Alex piped up again, clicking his tongue.

“Divine fumigation?” Moira offered, Logan snorting a little.

“That’s the short of it, yes,” Charles said, smiling a little at the analogy before sobering again. “Those beings that you saw outside, they’re just vessels. Possessed, you could say. The weakest willed are the easiest to turn.”

“Possessed by angels then? You sure they’re not possessed by demons? Because that’s what the movies say, man. The angels are supposed to be the good guys,” Sean said, Charles shaking his head.

“Your popular culture is amusing, and oftentimes quite flattering,” Charles said, taking another marshmallow and squishing it between his fingers. “But no. This is not the work of demons, but of His angels.”

“Wait, how do you know so much about this? Are you a… pastor, or something?” Raven asked, Charles giving them a serene smile.

“I know all of this because, yesterday, I was technically on their side,” Charles said, back beginning to burn again at the reminder of the appendages he had recently lost.

“So you’re a-”

“ _Was_ ,” Charles said sharply, cutting Alex off, the boy flinching. Giving him an apologetic look, Charles lowered his voice. “Sorry. It’s… sensitive.”

“Right, sorry Chuck, you say that you were an angel or whatever, but I’m not about to believe that so easily,” Logan said, dumping the rest of his flask of whiskey into his coffee and stirring it with his finger, chugging it down. “That being said, I also don’t believe in God and shit either.”

“Well, that goes both ways, Logan. He doesn’t believe in you either, not right now,” Charles said, everyone tensing. Logan just stared at Charles, almost challenging, the fallen angel heaving out a prolonged sigh. “I do suppose this is all hard to believe. Piety has waned in recent centuries, and pop culture has reduced us to shiny white-winged beings. Unfortunately, things aren’t so glamourous.”

Charles shuffled from where he sat, shrugging off his tweed coat – now soaked with blood and what Moira was denying were bits of temporal lobe – and subsequently pulled his lilac sweater over his head. Moira, who was standing slightly behind Charles, gasped. Charles laughed dryly.

“Yes, I can’t imagine that it’s a pretty sight,” Charles mused, everyone getting up to get behind Charles, wondering why Moira looked so pale. It was obvious once their eyes fell upon the two red and puckered wounds on Charles’s back which almost met in a V-shape, long bony protuberances jutting out like sawed-off stumps from the jagged cuts.

“Oh, _wow_. So what are you, like Michelangelo or something?” Sean asked, Moira giving him a look.

“You mean _Michael_ , the archangel?”

“Or Gabriel, and Raphael,” Darwin added, Charles laughing.

“Oh, yes and no. Our names seem to have gotten lost sometime during the past millennia. Instead of Raphael, try _Emma_. And instead of Uriel, my brother would prefer to be called _Janos_.”

_And Gabriel’s true name is Erik. Erik, Erik, Erik._

“But your wings… they were…” Hank asked, staring at the wounds on Charles’s back curiously.

“…Taken as a punishment for my betrayal,” Charles said quietly, taking another sip of his bitter coffee.

“Betrayal?”

“Yes. You see, I’m supposed to help with your… fumigation. Evidently, I was against it, and threw myself from Heaven to try and save humankind. Obviously, He did not take too kindly too it, nor did my brothers and sisters, and hence my wings were torn from my back and my Gift taken away,” Charles said, voice airy and light but stilted despite trying to sound unaffected.

“So you’re here to protect us? Like a guardian angel?” Angel asked, Charles leaning on the table.

“Well, not entirely,” Charles said, turning his eyes up from his coffee to look directly at Raven, the blonde girl blinking. “I’m here to protect _her_.”

“Me?” Raven asked, alarmed. “Why me?”

“Because your child is the only hope humanity has of surviving,” Charles said simply, the diner growing silent. Heads turned back and forth between a still Raven and a calm Charles, who continued to chew on his marshmallows.

“Well, shit,” Alex muttered, sinking into his chair.

“No way. Nope, nuh uh,” Raven said, standing up as she shook her head. Raven threw her hands up, pacing around the diner as Hank hovered around, trying to get her to sit down. “Why _me_? I’m _nobody_. Hell, I know what everyone says about me. I’m just the girl who got knocked up by some random guy a few states over, the girl that threw away my future because I didn’t use protection! _Why. Me?!_ ”

“Because you’re strong,” Charles said, voice soft but cutting through Raven’s near-hysterical rant, the girl silenced by Charles’s words. “Because you’re a fighter, and brave, and good. Because you’re the only person that is strong enough to carry this burden.”

“I’m just a waitress,” Raven whispered, letting Hank guide her back to the booth seat with worried hands.

“No, you’re _Raven_ ,” Charles said, like that meant something. “You’re stronger than you know. Trust me.”

After a long moment, Raven’s mouth curled up.

“Well, who better to trust than an angel?” Raven said, Sean laughing, Darwin and Alex cracking smiles. Even Logan let out a snort, while Moira and Hank exhaled soft chuckles.

“So, let me get this straight, Chuck,” Logan said, crossing his arms over his burly chest. “To survive the apocalypse, we’ve just gotta protect the girl and her bub until it’s born?”

“At the very least,” Charles said, eyes growing dark. “Let’s get to that stage first, because once the baby is born, the vessels out there can’t touch him. But after that…”

_Erik will come to kill the child._

“More of them are coming, then?” Darwin asked, Charles swallowing around the boulder in his throat and nodding.

“Yes, which is why we need to prepare. This first wave was them testing our strength. Next, they will test our weakness.”

“Okay,” Moira said, leaning on the table. “Charles, what do we need to do?”


	3. Chapter 3

_“He will wipe every tear from their eyes,  
and death shall be no more,  
neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore,  
for the former things have passed away.”_

_Revelation 21:4_

When Moira asked Charles about what they had to do, she didn’t expect him to ask her and Darwin to cook lunch. Even though it was pitch black outside because of the unnatural cloud cover, the clock said that it was just past one in the afternoon, everyone’s stomachs rumbling the moment Charles mentioned food.

Now, Darwin was busy frying up burger patties, thankful that the generator was still functioning even if everything else seemed to be blown to pieces. Meanwhile, Moira and Sean assembled the burgers, and Logan and Sean had taken the first watch on the rooftop having scoffed down the first burgers (and a beer for Logan). Hank and Raven, on the other hand, sat in one of the booths, munching on their own meals.

Hank didn’t have much of an appetite, not when he knew that there were dead bodies shoved into the commercial fridge out back, Moira not wanting to leave the corpses sitting there decaying in the front of the house. Still, he knew that he needed his strength for what was to come, especially if he wanted to protect Raven.

Hank looked at the young woman sitting opposite him in the booth, chewing around her burger carefully, her appetite no better than his own despite being pregnant. Raven’s hair was dishevelled and soaked with sweat, and the skin under her eyes was dark, her pupils themselves haunted and afraid. Still, Hank thought that she was beautiful, and could only agree with what the fallen angel had said – Raven was strong, so, so strong, and she always has been. Hank had always known it.

“I’m here for you, you know,” Hank said quietly, Raven’s head snapping up from where she was busy staring at a piece of fallen lettuce. Raven’s eyes widened when Hank reached across the table to take her hand in his, linking their fingers together tightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Hank,” Raven whispered, eyes growing wet, before she smiled, big and wide and beautiful. “Please, I’ll be the one protecting you. I have the holy baby brewing in here, and out of the two of us, I’m a way better shot.” Raven winked, a tear slipping from her eye, the two youths smiling at each other warmly.

***

Alex sat at the counter, glowering down at his phone – he had been trying to contact his brother, but all the phone lines were still down. Alex had asked Charles if this apocalypse was happening _everywhere_ , and Charles shook his head, saying _‘not yet, not if I can help it’._ Charles had assured him that the vessels were only appearing here in this backwater town because of Raven, and that the rest of the world would not burn as long as her baby was still alive. Alex held on to that, only able to keep his head up by reminding him that Scott was still alright – for Scott, Alex would protect Raven and her baby, even if he died trying.

“Hey, man. Here’s some lunch,” Darwin said, sliding a plate across the counter and taking a seat himself, squirting some ketchup onto his fries. Darwin caught a glance at the picture on Alex’s phone, smiling a little. “Kid brother?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, brushing his thumb over Scott’s smiling face, the photo taken when his head lost his front teeth. “His name’s Scott. I was… on my way to see him, when… well.”

“When the apocalypse began?” Darwin supplied, Alex laughing despite himself, the sentence still sounding ridiculous to his ears even though he knew it was all true.

“Yeah. He’s been staying with relatives ever since… Ever since I went to jail,” Alex said, Darwin nodding – not judgemental, just listening. Alex relaxed a little, giving Darwin a grateful look. “I never talk about it with anyone, but I don’t know… if I die, I’d want someone to know. To, maybe, tell Scott what happened. So he doesn’t think that I just left him behind.”

“Hey, from what I can tell, you adore that kid. I’m sure he knows that,” Darwin said, bumping his shoulder with Alex’s, the blonde smiling a little.

“I hope so. But then again, I sometimes wished that he didn’t. He… Scott thinks I got sent to jail because of him. But it wasn’t his fault, not really. It wasn’t his fault that those assholes were scaring him and assaulting him. And it was my fault for letting my anger get the best of me, like always,” Alex said, eyes downcast.

“You were protecting your brother?” Darwin asked, Alex nodding.

“Yeah. I… I beat up those guys pretty bad. They hadn’t laid a finger on Scott, but they were about to. But since Scott wasn’t injured, I was booked for assault and locked up. Scott got sent to relatives because I wasn’t fit to be his guardian any more, but Scott sent me letters while I was in the slammer and our aunt… _God_ , she’s not fit to look after him either.”

“So you were going to try and take him back?”

“To try give him a better life, the best one that I can,” Alex said, Darwin humming, patting Alex on the back comfortingly.

“Well, you’ll be able to do that, once we stop the world from ending,” Darwin said, nudging at Alex’s plate. “Come on, eat. If you thought my scrambled eggs were good, wait until you try my burger.”

***

Moira and Angel had hauled the dead bodies into the fridge, Angel staring at the body of her step-father numbly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Moira said, though her own hands were shaking, because _God_ , she was wrapping corpses in cling wrap and shoving them in the freezer at her _workplace_. This was not what she was qualified for, and when she woke up, showered and ate her Cheerios this morning, she hadn’t expected her day to pan out like this.

Surprisingly, Moira hadn’t lost her mind yet – with everything that was going on, Moira was expecting to have some sort of breakdown (or three), but for some reason her head was clear and full of purpose. Maybe it was because of Charles, the fallen angel that seemed to have all the answers, a constant and steady presence that enveloped Moira with a sense of calm. Maybe it was because her co-workers had also taken the recent events in stride, pillars propping Moira up.

Or maybe it was because that, deep down, Moira had a sense that this was what she had been looking for. This had been that ‘something more’ that she had been waiting for her entire life, stuck in this dreary small town that people forgot on maps.

“You know what’s funny?” Angel said, gesturing to the corpse of the man that had tormented her for years. “He’s dead, and I don’t even feel relieved. I’ve dreamt for _years_ about how I would feel when he was gone from this world. I don’t know, I thought it would feel… like I would be reborn, or something, but I just feel empty.”

“It’s probably hard to feel reborn when the world is literally ending,” Moira said, Angel huffing out a laugh.

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s because _he_ was nothing. You know, like the monster under the bed that your mind made up when you’re little. Looking at him now, I realise that he was just a _man_. A horrible man, but also _just_ a man. He used to seem so much bigger, like an insurmountable force, but he was snuffed out. Just. Like. That. It makes me wonder, you know. If we will be snuffed out like that. If I will. Because he was always so much bigger than me and still died.”

“I’ve never been religious, so I’m not going to start preaching about retribution and whatever, but I do believe in karma. And let’s just say that he was due to cash in,” Moira said, grasping Angel by the hand. “Look, you’re strong. You told me about what you did, saving all of those other girls. I’d say you’re holding onto a lot of good karma right now, so you’d be best to cash that in as well.”

Angel looked at Moira, before giving her a tight hug. Moira hugged her back just as tightly.

“Thank you, again. You’re building up your good karma too, you know,” Angel said, Moira laughing.

“I’d hope so. This is the apocalypse, I’m going to collect all the good karma I can get.”

***

Charles stood in front of the sink in the staff bathroom, shirt and tweed jacket hanging from the hook. Charles winced as he peered over his shoulder in the cracked and dusty mirror, dabbing at the wounds on his back – the pockets where his wings used to be, and the laceration the broken plate had sliced into his shoulder.

There were bloodied cotton balls sitting in the sink and the tang of medical alcohol hanging in the air, Charles crinkling his nose. Even as an angel, it was hard for Charles to reach the wounds on his back.

In the past, when wars were waged between the forces of Heaven and Hell, Charles had been injured. Unlike now, though, Erik had always been by his side, tending to Charles’s wounds while Charles did the same to the taller angel. Erik’s hands, which were always rough and wielded his sword like it was a part of him – because it _was_ , with Erik’s Gift of controlling metal – were gentle whenever they dabbed at Charles’s wounds, like the immortal angel were a piece of glass.

Now, though, Charles was alone in a diner bathroom trying to wipe away the blood from his broken wings.

Charles was about to give up, grabbing the lilac sweater he had taken from some hapless man’s clothesline before coming to the diner, when the door to the bathroom abruptly opened. Charles jumped, not used to being surprised – his power usually alerted him when people were approaching, and without it, Charles was blind and more vulnerable than he had ever been before.

Logan stared at Charles’s shirtless form, eyes trekking across the wounds on his back and the pile of bloody gauze scattered around him.

“Need some help there, Chuck?” Logan asked, Charles sighing.

“If you would be so kind,” Charles said, Logan nodding and gently pushing Charles to sit on the closed toilet seat, back towards Logan. Logan washed his hands before taking out some more cotton from the first aid kit, dousing it in alcohol before applying it to Charles’s wounds. Charles bit back a hiss, and Logan let out a small snorting noise from the back of his throat.

“So angels feel pain too, huh.”

“Oh, we feel a lot of pain,” Charles said, mouth quirking up. “Some more than others.”

“I’m assuming you’re one of those in the ‘more’ category,” Logan said, Charles chuckling.

“What makes you think that?”

“Your bleeding heart,” Logan said, Charles quietening. “It’s obvious because you’re _here_ , and not flying around with your buddies, razing the world to ashes.”

“Astute observation,” Charles mused, hunching over slightly as Logan continued to clean up his back. “A friend of mine once said that my ‘bleeding heart’, as you called it, would be the end of me.”

“Why sacrifice yourself, then? For us,” Logan said, moving from the cut on Charles’s shoulder to the scar of his left wing. “You said God doesn’t believe in us anymore. That he lost his faith. If he no longer has hope, why are you here?”

Charles was quiet, blue eyes closing as he remembered, remembered that day when He made the humans.

“When God chose your kind, as the object of his love, I was the first in all of Heaven to bow down before you,” Charles said, smile nostalgic. “Maybe it was because of my Gift. I knew how much He loved you, and I felt that love in turn. Then, I felt _you_ all too – your feelings, they were unlike anything I’d experienced before. Angels do not feel like you do. You felt so much, so many different, wonderful things. It was amazing.” Charles glanced back at Logan, the man not betraying his emotions and focusing on cleaning Charles’s wounds, though the fallen-angel knew the man was listening.

“But, even with all of the good things, the good thoughts and emotions, there was the bad as well. I’ve watched you kill each other over race and greed, waging war over dust and rubble and the words in old books. And yet, in the midst of all this darkness…” Charles said, voice drifting off, throat suddenly clogged.

“I see some people who will not be bowed, who will not give up, even when they know all hope is lost,” Charles said, turning to face Logan now. “Like Moira, who shows kindness to people even in the hardest of times. Like Sean, who remains joyful even when things are bleak. Like Alex, who worries about his brother more than himself. Like Darwin, who comforts people amongst when they falter. Like Hank, who loves Raven with a purity that is becoming scarcer and scarcer in this world. And Raven, who has been given a burden yet has not cowered, who does not rely on someone to save her but wields her own strength like a shield _and_ a sword.”

“And you, Logan,” Charles said quietly, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I may not have my Gift, but I know of you. You, who has nightmares over the people you couldn’t save, but forgets all those that you did. Those soldiers, your brothers in arms, that were able to go back home to their husbands and their wives, to their children and their parents, because _you_ pulled them out of the fray. There is so much _pain_ in you, but you still stand. You do not let it bring you to your knees.”

“ _That_ …” Charles concluded, turning back for Logan to wrap his wounds with cloth, hands steady but pausing as Charles spoke. “…Is why I am here. Because I have not lost faith. Because I believe that just because you’ve stumbled, and lost your way, that it does not mean that you’ll be lost forever.”

Logan finished wrapping up Charles’s injuries, standing up.

“Are you here to guide us then, Chuck? To lead us back to the path so we are no longer lost?” Logan asked, Charles standing too, turning around with bright eyes.

“Not just you, my friend,” Charles said, looking up into the sky.

_Because you are not the only ones who are lost._

***

“Charles?”

Erik padded nimbly across the marble gazebo where his friend lay prone across a white bench, hands over his head. Erik usually tread lightly, trained to not make any noise, but always knew that even if he were completely silent Charles could feel him coming from clouds away.

That was why Erik was surprised when Charles let out a startled gasp when Erik placed his hand on the smaller angel’s shoulder, unaware of Erik’s approaching form.

“Oh! Erik,” Charles said, sitting up from his prone position hastily, which only made him let out a pained groan, wincing. Erik felt a faint stab of discomfort in his own mind, the copper-haired angel frowning as Charles’s face grew a shade paler. “I’m sorry, my friend. I did not mean to project that.” The phantom stabbing pain in Erik’s head disappeared immediately, his head a little empty.

“Why are you in pain, Charles?” Erik asked, not bothering to ask _if_ his friend was in pain, knowing that he was – and knowing that Charles would deny it anyway. Charles rarely showed any discomfort – an occasional rub of his temple, maybe, but never a grimace nor a crinkle in his brow. Even during the War in Heaven, where both Erik and Charles had been injured when fighting against Sebastian and his rebel angels, Charles had not shown that his injuries affected him. In fact, he had shrugged off his own wounds to use his mind’s Gift to block out the pain of their brothers and sisters. Right now, though, Charles could not hide his hurt.

“It’s nothing Erik. A mere trifle,” Charles murmured, sitting up fully now. Erik kneeled down on the ground, his sword tapping against the marble from where it hung low on his hips.

“You can hear them, can’t you? His beloved children,” Erik said, nudging at Charles’s hung chin, forcing the angel to look at him. As Erik peered into Charles’s eyes, he could see the pain and sorrow that swirled in their depths, a kaleidoscope of the faces of all of those _humans_ that plagued Charles’s mind.

“Yes,” Charles said, closing his eyes as he raised his hands to clasp Erik’s. Erik squeezed Charles’s hands in return. “It is war again, Erik. It’s always loud when there is war. But, like always, it will pass, and I will be fine.”

“It will pass for now, but you know it will come back again, Charles,” Erik said bitterly, eyes aflame. “Them, the _humans_ , wage war over and over. They continue to revel in the deaths of their own people, and yet they never learn.”

 _‘And you get hurt, every time,’_ Erik supplied mentally, Charles sighing.

“Thank you for your concern, my friend, but you don’t need to worry about me. I am quite alright, it’s only a headache,” Charles said, offering Erik a lopsided smile. “And Erik, they have simply made a mistake again. They’ve just stumbled, and they only need to be taught to learn from their mistakes.”

“And how many times will you let them stumble until you realise that they no longer deserve to get up?” Erik asked sourly. “How long will you coddle them for? They are no longer infants, Charles, and yet they act like children.”

“I will always believe in them, Erik,” Charles replied, glaring at his friend a little when he merely scoffed at Charles’s assertion. “There is so much good in them, we only need to coax it out.”

“For someone whose sight is second only to God, you are truly blind Charles,” Erik replied, pulling himself to his feet and walking away, flicking out his wings with frustration. Charles watched his friend stalk off, frown etched on his soft features, before standing up himself.

There was still a buzzing in his head, but it had dulled, even if for a moment. Charles hadn’t been lying earlier – war was always louder than normal, and it took a lot of Charles’s energy to shut out the pain and the suffering.

Charles leapt off the marble platform and descended from Heaven, landing with grace on top of a dirt-caked building amidst a warzone. Charles could hear the patter of gunfire in the distance, weaving between the cries of soldiers barking out orders and singing to the beat of bombs tearing up the Earth.

Charles lightly glided from rooftop to rooftop, watching American troops hunker down in street bunkers, weapons drawn. The angel could sense that there were minds waiting in hiding, and after casting a glance over the minds of the Americans, Charles knew that they didn’t realise that there were enemy troops waiting to ambush them.

 _‘Much death will come,’_ Charles thought grimly, bolstering his shields as he watched, hands clasped. Praying.

The insurgents rushed forward, catching the American soldiers unaware. Bullets sprayed and blood was spilled, turning the earth crimson.

But then, Charles could hear a voice that cut clear through the fog of death and anguish.

“I’ve got you!” the man yelled, voice rough as he gritted his teeth, lobbing out of the trench and darting forwards amongst the rubble and ricocheting bullets towards a soldier who leaned heavily against an abandoned Humvee, clutching at a gurgling bullet wound in his shoulder.

“Howlett,” the bleeding man rasped, the rough soldier grunting and shouldering his comrade’s weight, dragging him. “Leave me.”

The situation was dire; the insurgents outnumbered these two remaining soldiers, and there was nowhere for them to go. One man was injured, and the other had the best chance of surviving if he simply abandoned him. The soldiers knew it, and Charles knew it – but that counted for nothing, not when Howlett just grinned, his heart thumping.

“Not a chance,” Howlett – _Logan_ , Charles’s mind supplied – dismissed his friend’s plea. Charles felt it then, just a spark rising above the hate and the hurt.

The desire to protect. Pure and untainted, even amongst the soot and ash.

Charles watched in rapture as Logan clung to the last thread of hope inside him, taking a gamble to defy the odds, even when they were stacked against him.

For his friend. His brother.

_‘See, Erik? They are not so unlike us.’_

_‘I’d defy the odds for you, too.’_

***

Alex clambered down the stairs, eyes wide.

“Something’s coming again,” Alex said in a rush, gesturing to the windows. Logan narrowed his eyes as he looked at Charles, who was already silently jerking his hand for Raven to duck behind the bar, Hank following her.

Peering out the window, Charles saw a single car pull up, and his blue eyes eyed at it with heady anticipation. Logan cocked his weapon, body tense.

“Are they one of _them_?” Moira asked, clutching onto her own gun as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, beginning to sweat.

The car drew closer, stopping near the diner. From inside, everyone could see someone banging on the window, screaming. It was a child, a young boy around six years old, dressed in tartan flannel pyjamas and sporting a head full of light blonde hair.

“Help!” the boy screamed, hands slamming on the glass.

“Oh, Christ, it’s a child!” Moira said, alarmed, her eyes widening further when she saw a swarm of cars barrelling down the road, and from the way they were driving, everyone knew that those cars were filled with the possessed. Humans never drove in such perfect synchronisation.

The child continued to scream, and everyone looked at Charles, whose face was drawn up with pain.

“What do we do, Charles?”

“It’s a trap,” Charles muttered, face flashing with pain again, like the thought caused him physical distress.

The child wailed, eyes wide and tears flowing freely. Alex stared at the kid, who reminded him so much of his younger brother, Scott. Alex’s heart beat in his chest, mind screaming.

“We’ve got to get him!” Alex urged, beginning to rush to the barricaded door, only to be stopped by the butt of Charles’s gun.

“It’s a trap, Alex,” Charles said, shaking his head. The other cars pulled in closer, circling around the boy in the car, who looked around with a terrified expression on his young face. Everyone grew pale as the possessed began stepping out of their cars, creating a curtain of expressionless faces around the boy, obscuring him. It almost looked like their bodies were swallowing him whole.

“We can’t just leave the kid out there to die!” Alex fought, shoving Charles, his eyes only seeing Scott and imagining if that was his brother in the car, surrounded by those bodies possessed by murderous angels, vessels of the apocalypse with not a single shred of humanity in their hearts.

“I agree with Chuck, kid. Something about this stinks,” Logan said, Alex baring his teeth at the taller, broader man.

“So you’re going to leave a defenceless kid to those things?! Fuck you,” Alex said, pushing hard at Charles’s torso and running past him, flinging the front door to the diner open and unleashing a yell, spraying bullets from his assault rifle as he rushed forward.

“Shit! That fucking idiot!” Logan cursed and rushing to close the front door, perching in front of it with his gun trained at the opening. Everyone watched in horror as Alex ran into the fray, immediately being surrounded by the possessed bodies. Alex thrust open the car door, the boy scrambling into Alex’s arms as he cried. With the child in one arm and his gun in the other, Alex clambered onto the roof of the car, spraying bullets as bodies fell and edged towards him.

“He’s gonna get himself killed!” Angel yelled, Logan growling.

“We’ve got to do something,” Darwin said, scrambling for his gun.

Charles’s face was contorted in pain and slight panic as he watched Alex yell, clutching onto the young boy with desperation. Charles knew that he would run out of bullets soon, and once he did the possessed would climb over him and snuff him out.

But this had to be a trap, some kind of test. A taunt. He and the angels knew that Charles was soft hearted, they knew that he wanted nothing more than to jump into the fray himself and drag the boy to safety. Charles had hesitated, though, while Alex had held onto his faith and did not hesitate to sacrifice his safety for that of someone else.

Charles looked at Alex, whose eyes were beginning to dim as he realised that he was, likely, about to die.

Charles closed his eyes, blocking out the screaming in his head that came from no one but himself, giving Logan a look, the man looking stern but nodding.

“Everyone, go upstairs and provide us with cover fire. Hank, stay behind the bar with Raven. Protect her,” Charles said, everyone nodding quickly, rushing upstairs. Charles grabbed another one of the guns from where they were perched on the bar, throwing another to Logan, who caught it deftly.

“On three,” Charles said, Logan nodding. “One… Two…”

“Three!”

Logan and Charles rushed out, bullets firing to the staccato beat of bullets raining from above, Moira and the others hailing down gunfire like it came from Heaven itself. Charles and Logan tore through the mass of possessed, bullets making bodies drop before them, clearing a path towards Alex and the boy who stood atop the car like it were an island staving away a flood. Bodies dropped, parting like the Red Sea before Charles and Logan, the two of them reaching Alex quickly and covered in red.

“Alex, take the child and get back inside!” Charles yelled, Alex nodding in fear and adrenaline, hoisting the kid closer and leaping down from the car. Under the cover fire of the crew on the rooftop, but mainly due to Charles and Logan holding back the screeching throng of deformed possessed that rushed at them, Alex threw himself past the threshold of the diner.

“You okay, kid?” Alex asked the boy, who nodded, eyes large and wide. “Thank God. Or, not God, because he’s the one that got us into this mess. Anyway, stay here, kid.” Alex let out a tense sigh, grabbing a gun from the table and rushing upstairs to provide aid alongside the rest of the group.

With Charles, Logan and the others cutting down the numbers of possessed congregating outside, Hank and Raven sat huddled behind the bar, the two of them shaking slightly. Raven caressed her baby bump, not sure if she were soothing the unborn child or herself, and Hank’s hands were almost white with how tightly he was gripping his gun.

The young boy that Alex saved stepped around the side of the counter, Hank letting out a startled noise as Raven cursed loudly.

“Oh, God, I thought you were one of them,” Hank muttered, Raven nodding in agreement as she gave the child a small smile.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe here,” Raven said, trying to reassure the boy who had been screaming and crying for his life just earlier, standing up. “Charles and Logan, and all of the others, they’re protecting us. They’re going t- ah!”

Raven screamed in pain and terror as the boy suddenly jumped forward, slashing out with a knife he had hidden behind his back. Hank let out a cry as he saw Raven fall to the floor, hand coming to her stomach where the knife had torn through her shirt, dragging a line of red across her belly.

Hank’s mind flashed with something he had never felt before, something that he never wanted to feel again, a surge of adrenaline bursting through his body.

“Get away from Raven!” Hank yelled, cocking his shotgun and firing. His first shot missed, the boy – the _possessed_ boy – ducking and darting to the side, edging closer to Raven, who scuttled back across the floor with another scream. Hank reloaded, shooting again, his bullet hitting the boy in the arm, tearing it clean off.

“Raven!” Hank yelled out, fumbling with the shotgun bullets he had on the counter, eyes wide as the boy did not even let his blown-off arm stop him from going after Raven.

Raven cried out as she fumbled around her, grabbing whatever she could. Wrapping her fingers around a metal pan, Raven just threw it in front of her in time to block the knife that swung down in a precise arc, far too much strength going into the swing for a six-year-old child. The metal of the pan bent and dented, the boy letting out a snarl as he swung again and again, the metallic ping of knife against pan deafening even with the symphony of gunfire outside.

“Get away from me!” Raven hollered, kicking his leg up and knocking the boy backwards.

As the boy began to pick himself up, Hank gave up with trying to reload his gun, just grabbing it by the barrel and charging forward, screaming.

“Get the hell away from her!” Hank screamed, swinging the shotgun and smashing it down on the possessed boy’s skull, which caved in at the sheer force. The boy’s body landed with a heavy thud by Raven’s feet, blood pooling along the divots in the tiled floor.

Charles burst in having heard Raven and Hank’s cries, dreading the worst – to his relief, he found Hank hovering over a shaking Raven, the body of the boy Alex had tried to save motionless in a circle of his own blood.

Having cleared out the majority of the possessed outside – severely depleting their meagre weapon reserves in the process – Logan and Charles had run back inside. Moira and the others headed back down from the rooftop once what was left of the second wave of possessed retreated back into the fog, Alex stumbling when he saw the dead body of the boy on the floor.

“What happened?” Angel gasped.

“The child was possessed,” Logan said simply, the blood from Alex’s face draining. “It was a trap. Chuck was right.”

“Oh, God,” Alex churned out, dropping to his knees, legs giving out. “I… I didn’t… I thought… I could have…”

“You didn’t know, Alex,” Charles said, shaking his head. “You wanted to protect a defenceless child, and you did what you thought was right. No one can fault you for that.”

“But…”

“Everyone is alright, and Hank dealt with it,” Charles said, eyeing the bloodied shotgun sitting on the floor beside the lanky man, walking forward to pat his shoulder. “Good job.” Kneeling beside Raven, who was peeling back her sliced shirt, Charles dropped his voice. “Raven, are you okay?”

Raven, beginning to nod and assure the angel that she was fine suddenly found herself robbed of her breath, lurching forward with a strangled noise. Everyone let out noises of terror, Charles gripping the shoulders of the young woman tightly as she let out a long, laborious groan.

“Raven? Raven?! What’s going on?” Hank asked frantically, Raven pulling her head up, sweat beginning to bead on her brow as he blonde hair matted to her head. Her lips, slightly chapped, curled up in a strained smile.

“The baby’s coming.”

***

The seven archangels stood in the grand hall. Emma, blonde hair long, wavy and adorned with white pearls, stood with her diamond bow slung across her back and a self-assured smirk on her plush lips. Janos, silent and clad in his all-covering leather suit, rested his hands on the mace he held against the ground. Azazel grinned wildly has he twirled his large trident-like spear. Selene’s dark hair swayed in the breeze from where she stood to the side, her twin daggers hanging on either side of her shapely hips and arms crossed over her chest while she pursed her lips, waiting.

Erik stood by Charles, the two of them always standing side by side. Erik was the third archangel He created, and Charles had been there the moment he had been born. Erik remembered opening his newly formed eyes for the first time and peering into depthless blue, a gentle smile on Charles’s lips as he reached out a hand and murmured, _‘Hello, Erik. I’ve been waiting for you’._

Charles and Erik had been inseparable ever since that moment, the two flying across the world He had created. Charles showed Erik everything beautiful that He created, and Erik couldn’t help but think _‘But you’re the most beautiful of all’._ Charles had, of course, heard the thought, red creeping up his cheeks and ears. Charles had smiled at Erik then, murmuring a soft _‘At least, until He created you, Erik’._

It wasn’t that Erik or Charles did not get along with the other archangels, it was only that they preferred each other’s company. Everyone just understood that it was ‘Charles and Erik’, the first born and the third, always side by side. No one questioned it – it was as ironclad as His will.

Sebastian, the second oldest of the angels after Charles, soon waltzed into the room with an air that was far too domineering, even if he were the strongest of the seven. He had a sly smirk on his face, one that Erik always thought contrasted so starkly with Charles, who was all things beautiful but did not flaunt it. Sebastian was overtly prideful, and though Erik did not mind the way he revelled in what was the nature of angels, he thought that there was something unholy stirring inside the second-born.

“Sebastian,” Charles said, offering the angel a warm smile, the taller man just grinning with thin lips.

“Brother,” Sebastian purred in response, sauntering over to Charles. Sebastian held little regard for the other archangels, believing that even they were beneath him. But, Sebastian was wary of Charles, since he was older – the _oldest_ – and _His_ most beloved angel. Sebastian was envious, for Charles was older but weaker. Sebastian was pure power, his Gift dipped in strength, and could best Charles in the training arena easily. Sebastian abhorred Charles’s Gift, one that seemed to mimic the will of God. Sebastian thought it was ridiculous for Charles to be entrusted with that power, for the man does not use it at all, which is why Shaw could trounce him over and over in mock combat.

On the other hand, Sebastian merely tolerated Erik, because he was the third born and close to his own age. Sebastian had to admit that Erik was powerful, though not as powerful as himself, the third angel’s Gift of metal proving him difficult to best in combat. It did grate on Sebastian’s nerves that Charles seemed to favour their younger brother, even if Charles was generally cordial with all of the angels.

“Do you know why we have been summoned?” Charles asked Sebastian politely, the man shrugging.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Brother. I believe that He will make His will known soon,” Sebastian said, Charles humming in agreement.

As if Sebastian’s words were an introduction, His presence suddenly filled the room, all of the archangels kneeling at the sensation that washed over them.

No words were spoken, but His will was clear.

Charles gasped, blue eyes open wide in wonder, red lips uttering the word for the first time.

 _“Humans,”_ Charles breathed, his mind filling with images of two people sharing a likeness akin to angels, but without the expanse of wings at their back and lifespans limited to under a century. These humans were beautiful and wonderful and so full of _something_ unfamiliar and new, that something pulsing inside Charles. Charles’s heart beat rapidly as his mind seemed to sink into those of these creations called humans, these creations that He so loved.

And _oh_ , Charles loved them too. Charles loved their feelings, which were so much stronger than those of the angels in the room with him. These humans felt with every fibre of their being, and it made Charles feel _alive_.

Charles looked at Erik, tears in his eyes, and Erik stared back at him with a wide, toothy grin.

“Erik, I can feel their minds. Their _hearts_ ,” Charles said, reaching forward to clutch at his closest friend, raising two of his fingers tentatively. “Erik, can I share these feelings with you? Their feelings?”

_My feelings._

Erik nodded, closing his eyes as Charles placed two fingers at his temple, unleashing the buzz of these minds that had just been born, Erik gasping.

The first and the third were so entranced by His new creations that they did not notice Sebastian’s embittered scowl, which twisted and darkened into something unbefitting of the white marble Heavens.

You see, when humans were born, Hell was too.


	4. Chapter 4

_“…for they cannot die anymore,_  
because they are equal to angels and are sons of God,  
being sons of the resurrection.”

_Luke 20:36_

“Oh, God,” Moira said, watching as liquid began to drip from beneath Raven’s skirt. “Oh, God. Does anyone know how to deliver a baby?!”

For some reason, everyone immediately turned to Charles, too used to the angel having all the answers. Charles looked as blank as they did, though, and it was then that they realised that _angels weren’t born the same way as humans._

Suddenly, Angel brushed past the group consisting of frozen humans and an angel, kneeling beside Raven and hoisting her to her shaky feet.

“Calm down, everyone, Jesus – no offence,” Angel said, turning to Charles who just shook his head. “I’ve delivered a baby before. One of the… girls got pregnant, and I had to… _Anyway_. We need to get her to the couch in the staff room. Sean, get us some cool cloth and a bucket of water. Moira, try to find some clean towels, and something for Raven to bite on. And Hank… just follow me for moral support.”

Hank looked pale and drawn, but nodded, following Angel and Raven while everyone else sprang into action.

“This is not what I’m trained for,” Logan said curtly, muttering that he’ll keep watch from the roof, Alex saying the exact same thing and following him there. Darwin made himself busy preparing food, since he figured everyone was going to need their sustenance, considering Raven was about to give birth to the saviour of humankind and they had just fended off the backwater diner from a second invasion of angel-possessed vessels.

Soon, Charles was left alone in the front of the diner. It was far from silent – everyone could hear Raven’s screams through the closed door of the staff room and there was the sizzle and clatter of pans as Darwin cooked in the kitchen, but Charles’s mind itself was deathly quiet.

Slowly, Charles cleared a space in the centre of the diner, pushing away debris and shell casings with his feet, which were still bare and red with cuts and welts, blackened with dirt and soot. His feet were far from their usual milky white and smooth appearance, and Charles had only seen himself so covered in muck once before, a time long, long ago, when someone else had hated humans with every fibre of their being.

Charles had fought against that person to protect these humans back then, but it had been so very, very different. Charles had his wings, for one.

And back then, he had not stood alone.

Charles softly lowered himself to his knees, buried in the silence, and closed his eyes before tilting his head up to Heaven.

_‘I know You have taken away my Gift, and I know that You do not want to hear what I have to say, but I will say it anyway. Please let this child live. Please let them all live. There is still good in them, I’ve seen it. Feel it. I feel it, here and now. So please, give them another chance.’_

Charles paused, sucking in a breath as the wind seemed to whistle at the walls of the diner.

_‘But if you don’t give them a chance, then I will forge one myself with the power I have left. I will prove to you that they are worthy of their existence, because the people here – Moira, Logan, Alex, Sean, Darwin, Angel, Hank, Raven – their hearts are pure.’_

_‘They are proof that hope is not lost.’_

The wind picked up for a brief second, battering at the windows. Then, all was silent once more, and Charles believed that to be His answer.

 _‘Very well. You will send_ him _then, won’t you. Is that kindness? Or cruelty? Sometimes Your will still confuses me.’_

Charles’s eyes then opened when a chorus of cries erupted from behind the closed doors, and Charles knew, even before Moira had rushed out with frantic elation, that the child had been born.

“What’s his name?” Charles asked as he walked in to see Raven sitting up on the couch, drenched in sweat and thighs reddened with the evidence of the birth, a weary but resolute smile on her pretty face.

“Kurt,” Raven murmured, looking at Hank, whose arm was draped over her shoulders protectively.

“Kurt,” Charles echoed, tongue wrapping around the name.

“Not angelic enough for you?” Raven asked, raising a brow, finding the energy to tease through the grips of her exhaustion.

“No,” Charles said, lip curling. “It’s not angelic at all. It’s very human, and that’s why it’s perfect.”

Everyone in the room shared a smile, until there was the crack of thunder outside, startling everyone. Logan and Alex rushed down from the roof, Darwin popping his head in as thunder clapped and lightning arced through the sky.

For some reason, everyone thought they could hear the thump of drums and a chorus of trumpets, carried by the thunder and the wind.

“He’s coming,” Charles whispered, heart twisting. “You have to go. _Now_.”

“Who’s coming?” Logan asked, already beginning to lift his gun, Charles’s voice grave.

“The possessed can’t touch the child, now that he has been born. He is… sacred. But _He_ has sent someone who can harm the child,” Charles murmured, Raven’s eyes growing wide, the young girl clutching her child closer to her chest.

“They’re still going to try and kill Kurt? After he’s been born?” Raven asked, Charles nodding.

“He’s sent _him_ , to finish the job. The job I was originally sent to do,” Charles said, everyone flinching at Charles’s admission that he, as an angel, had been ordered to kill the people sitting on the ratty staff couch in front of him.

“Who, Charles?”

“Someone like me,” Charles said slowly as the thunder grew louder and louder, getting closer and closer.

“You mean another angel?” Hank asked, glasses slipping from his sweaty nose bridge.

“Not a regular angel, not like the ones possessing the vessels,” Charles said, trying to still his trembling hands, balling them into fists. “An archangel. The one that I believe is the strongest of us all.”

_And the one I hold most dear._

“An archangel,” Alex said flatly, expression pinched. “So, he’s more powerful than those things outside? More powerful than… you?”

“If I still had my Gift then I could maybe subdue him, but he has God at his back,” Charles said, wounds on his back burning like a brand. “And he has always been strong and unwavering in his convictions.”

_And I am too soft-hearted to kill him._

As everyone began to try and digest what Charles had said, the earth began to shake violently – the walls vibrated, plaster and stone turning into dust as cracks split in horizontal lines along the walls. Charles yelled something, but couldn’t be heard over the noise, everyone ducking low for cover as the roof of the diner was lifted clean off its walls, revealing a pitch-black sky cracked with lightning.

The humans screamed as they dropped to their knees, arms over their head to shield themselves from the debris as the roof was levitated off, crumbling to pieces around the diner.

Charles alone stood, eyes trained on the figure hovering in the sky with large, strong wings, face cut with shadows illuminated by the lightning.

Erik looked down at Charles through his war helmet, one that he hadn’t worn since the War in Heaven. Back then, Charles had worn a similar helm, the two side-by-side, wings beating as one.

But now, they stood on opposite sides and moments away from a battle – one that would only end when one of them perished.

Charles was not clairvoyant, for that was solely His power, but he knew the odds. It was not only because of his lack of wings and the loss of his power that he knew that his long existence was likely to end today, but the fact that, even now, Charles could not bear the thought of killing Erik.

Not Erik.

Because Charles was as merciful as he was soft-hearted.

And Erik had always said that would be the end of him.

***

Heaven burned.

Charles should have seen it coming. Yes, he had the gift of minds and not of foresight, but he should have picked up on the unsaid signs festering in Sebastian’s – no, he called himself _Klaus_ now – mind. But Charles had been too trusting of his archangel brothers and sisters and did not see their treachery.

Power. Power had been the impetus, the driving force. Seb- _Klaus_ had been overcome by it and it had corrupted him, for he was surely not born corrupted. He had gifted Klaus with the power to control power, and in Klaus’s egotistical mind he had thought that meant that he was power absolute.

Klaus had long been unhappy with his place in Heaven. He did not like being ordered to do His bidding, he did not like how he was always going to be the _second_ archangel, always after Charles, never the most beloved. Even Charles himself had passed over Klaus for Erik.

And the _humans_. Klaus spat as his mind uttered the word. Klaus did not understand why the humans were held in such high regard, why they were so loved when they were weak and could break with the snap of his fingers. Klaus did not know why everyone loved the humans more than an archangel like him, an archangel that was the most powerful of all the angels.

So, Klaus waged war on Heaven. He turned a few of the other angels to his side; Emma, who had the Gift to harden her physical body into diamond and the only being able to repel Charles’s Gift naturally. Azazel, who could manifest his corporeal anywhere out of thin air. And Janos, who was a master of the wind.

Klaus had tried to recruit Erik in his rebellion against Heaven, and maybe, _maybe,_ Erik had been momentarily tempted by the idea. Erik had, at first, loved the humans, seeing them through Charles’s eyes. But, over time, he had begun to see that the humans were not deserving of their love.

But then Charles had looked at him with those blue eyes, weeping, and saying that war and death is not the right path. That peace could never come from such a dark and tumultuous campaign. Sitting on their cloud, Charles had pressed his forehead to Erik’s, gently nudging warmth and love and hope through their bond; briefly, Charles had shown Erik the potential of these humans, who were like infants still learning to walk. They were young, so, so young, and should be given another chance.

And how could Erik abandon Charles then? Abandon the humans that Charles held so much faith in? Even if some of the things Klaus lauded resonated within Erik, the desire to protect Charles and their Heaven meant more to him.

Back then, Erik still had hope.

Shaw and the other three archangels swooped in the skies of Heaven, brandishing their weapons as they lay waste to marble buildings and pristine pillars. The lesser angels were no match for the four rebel archangels, and with only Charles, Erik and Selene able to hold them back, Heaven was on fire.

Klaus cackled as he raised his hand, sending a powerful blast towards Charles, who was kneeling on the ground with his fingers pressed against his temple. The angel was already bleeding, red trickling down his forehead and dripping onto his white armour. Charles’s face was strained as he became locked in a mental battle with Emma while trying to coordinate the efforts of the other angels defending their home.

Erik saw Klaus mounting an attack on the momentarily unprotected Charles, letting out a growl and thrusting his hand out, sending the swords of slayed angels hurtling towards Klaus, sharp blades gleaming in the sunlight.

Erik’s display of his might made Klaus grin, the expression making Erik grit his teeth.

“What a waste of your potential, Erik,” Klaus laughed, voice echoing over the screams of his brothers and sisters. “Why do you fight for a hopeless cause? On behalf of those humans who are too weak to fend for themselves?”

Erik did not answer him, just steeled his gaze and raised his arms – metal swirled around him, a tornado of steel and iron rivalling Janos’s, before letting out a yell and sending it spiralling towards Shaw.

Shaw just laughed again, letting the debris collide with his divine form, which rippled and absorbed everything. Suddenly, Shaw released all of the energy Erik’s attack had charged him with, Erik cursing and beating his wings, swooping out of Shaw’s line of fire.

“Erik!” Charles called out, wobbling to his feet as Erik saw Emma’s diamond form turning back into soft flesh and golden hair, her wings freezing as she dropped from the sky. Charles sucked in a tight, exhausted breath after his confrontation with Emma, but forced himself to launch his form into the air to meet Erik.

“Emma?” Erik asked, forcing out the question when all he wanted to do was crush Charles to his chest and wipe away the blood flowing from his wounds.

“I dealt with her. It took a long time to break through her shields, but I only had to find the crack in her defences,” Charles said, dark circles under his eyes despite the small smile he held on his face that was like a ray of sunlight in the darkness.

“And Janos? Azazel?”

“Some of the younger angels have subdued them, using sheer numbers against their power,” Charles said, mind pushing _‘teamwork and family conquers all’_. “And, some of the younger angels are quite powerful. Ororo and Jean show great potential.”

“So now it’s only Klaus,” Erik said, Charles nodding. “Charles, he is power itself. How are we supposed to suppress him?”

“That, my friend,” Charles said, pressing his hand against Erik’s leather-clad chest, lighting a fire inside him, “has a simple solution.”

Erik raised a brow as Charles smiled, determination set into his features.

“It’s you and I, Erik. Even Klaus, absolute power, will be rendered obsolete if we work together.”

Charles’s words had been proven true, even if he were not a clairvoyant or future-seer. Klaus fell from Heaven, and his lieutenants punished. Heaven still stood, and Charles and Erik were still an unbreakable force.

At least, until they themselves broke apart.

***

Logan was the first to fire, aiming his sights at Erik who hovered in the air. Erik just smirked as the bullet – _metal_ – bounced off his wings like they were nothing but dust. Erik flicked his wrist, the gun quickly wrenched from Logan’s arms – and everyone else’s – and hurled onto the ground, twisted into a lumps of useless metal and gunpowder.

“Erik!” Charles yelled, rushing forwards, capturing his friend’s attention with a single cry of his name, so familiar on his tongue. “Don’t do this!”

“You still try protect them, Charles? When you know how this will end?” Erik said coldly, descending from the skies with the beat of his wings. All of the humans gaped at him – they had long believed in Charles’s spiel about angels, but it was different seeing one, wings and all, in the flesh.

“I have hope,” Charles said simply, Erik’s lips pulling back in anger.

“After all they have done? After all of the pain and suffering they have caused?”

“You believe they’re all like those men you’ve seen with darkness in their hearts. But listen to me very carefully, my friend. They are not all without hope. There are good, honest, innocent humans that have been born, that live and breathe on this earth, in this _room,_ right now. Why do you seek to judge them all based on the actions of a few?” Charles asked, stepping closer to Erik, eyes locked. Erik appeared to stiffen as Charles walked closer while discarding his gun with a clatter on the ground.

“We’ve tried it your way, Charles. So many times,” Erik said, letting out a shuddering breath when Charles stepped in closer. Though shorter than Erik, Charles seemed to fill up the space in front of the winged angel. Charles raised his hands, cupping Erik’s cheeks, hindered slightly by his harsh helmet.

“Erik, you once said that our kind is superior,” Charles said, leaning in close enough so he could feel the flutter of Erik’s breath across his cheek. “Now is the time to prove it. Killing them is not the answer, and will not bring the peace you want. Peace does not come with death – it comes with hope.”

Erik was silent, seeming to sway a little in Charles’s embrace, leaning in until their lips almost touched. And maybe they did, for a brief, brief moment, but it was too fleeting to be more than a dream.

“He has lost hope, and as have I,” Erik whispered, raising his hand as Charles screamed hastily.

“Everyone, run!” Charles cried out, using all of his energy to tackle Erik to the ground, the angel surprised by Charles’s sudden movement, the angel and the fallen dropping with a heavy thud.

Charles felt the humans scatter from behind him, grabbing whatever they could and piling into two cars that were parked out the front.

“Charles!” Erik seethed, flipping the two of them over with a beat of his wings, Charles unrelenting in his scrabble for purchase on Erik’s torso, attempting to pin the taller man to the ground.

“I won’t let you hurt them, Erik!” Charles replied, letting out a grunt as Erik pushed him off roughly by the ribs, Charles rolling on the ground. Erik raised a hand, about to pull on the threads of his power to pull the escaping vehicles back when Charles slammed into his body again, fist colliding with his face. Charles let out a pained hiss as Erik’s helmet sliced into his knuckles, red dripping down Charles’s pale arm.

“Charles, I don’t want to hurt you, I’m only here for the child!” Erik said, grabbing onto the back of Charles’s grey coat and wrenching him upwards into the air, throwing Charles against a broken wall. The wind was knocked out of Charles as he dropped to the floor tasting iron on his tongue.

“Well you’re going to have to go through me to get to Kurt,” Charles said, blue eyes growing hot as he picked up a long shard of wood, end jagged and pointed. Erik looked pained, but flicked his wrist, ripping rods of iron from amongst the plaster walls and directing them at Charles, attempting to loop them around the fallen’s wrists to subdue him, for Charles had been stripped of his powers and was no stronger than a human. The thought made Erik want to scream.

Charles dodged Erik’s projectiles, swatting them away with his makeshift wooden weapon and then swung at Erik, the taller angel parrying it with his metal gauntlet easily. Charles did not give up, though, even if his attacks did nothing but make Erik more and more agitated.

When Charles’s wooden weapon collided with Erik’s arm, the man let out a burst of his power, slamming the back of a gun into Charles’s face, sending him flying back with a loud crack.

“Charles, don’t make me hurt you!” Erik growled, pulling out the sword hanging by his waist, the familiar weapon gleaming as he slowly walked over to Charles, whose vision was spinning, his limbs struggling to pull himself up. Charles ached all over, but he had to stand. He had to, to give the humans a chance to get away.

“I… won’t let you… hurt… them,” Charles wheezed out, coughing a little, red spraying from his mouth. Erik shook, the grip around his sword tightening. Charles’s fingers fumbled around, grabbing onto a broken shard of glass, which sliced into his hand as he stood. Charles weakly pushed his body forward, swinging the shard of glass like a dagger, the glass shattering as it met with the hilt of Erik’s sword.

“Why do you make me do this?” Erik asked brokenly, voice shaking as his eyes grew wet. Charles grabbed onto the front of Erik’s armour, trying to pull him back and away from the humans he so desperately wanted to save. _God, why does Charles continue to fight when he knows that he will not win?_

Charles couldn’t hold himself up on his feet any longer, slumping onto the ground by Erik’s feet. Erik just stared at him, heart shattering as Charles stared up at him, trying to plead with him with those eyes Erik so loved. The eyes that held the colour of the sky, but not now – not with the clouds and the thunder obscuring everything that is bright.

“Charles, you don’t have the strength to stop me,” Erik said quietly, Charles letting out a grieving sob as Erik stepped backwards, towards the direction the humans had fled in. “Charles, wait here. Once I’ve dealt with them, I’ll come back for you. We can plead to Him together, and He will forgive you and we can-”

Suddenly, a bullet slammed itself against Erik’s helmet, ricocheting off the surface. The movement surprised even the metal-bending angel, whose head whipped to the source of the surprise attack.

“Charles!”

Logan, who had been driving, swerved sharply which brought the car to a skidding stop. Moira, who had been the shooter, immediately shot out of the passenger side and fired again.

Sean, Angel, Darwin and Alex got out of the car as well, pulling out their guns and firing.

Leaving Charles to sacrifice himself for their sake had not sit well with the rest of the group, and they had turned their car around after getting Raven and Hank to continue onwards in the second car, to get Kurt as far away as they could. If this angel was after the child, they had to go far, far away, and the rest of the group would do what they could to buy them time.

They knew that they were probably heading towards their deaths by returning, but they knew that if they didn’t they would die anyway – along with the entire world.

Erik seethed, jerking his hand out and slamming the offending bullet to the ground. Moira’s eyes widened, but she fired again, and again, and again, bullets meeting Erik’s invisible wall, bending to the left, right, upwards. The others began shooting as well, and Erik roared, the bullets crumpling into useless lumps at his feet.

And then, Moira shot again, the bullet travelling directly towards Erik’s face and, instinctively, the angel deflected it downwards.

Erik, through the tingling sense of the metal he controlled, could feel the moment the bullet pierced through something warm and soft before lodging into a solid structure, hard yet brittle. Moira dropped the gun as Logan watched, the hardened man faltering, as a short gasp echoed through the air.

Erik turned his head, just in time to see Charles fall. Erik’s heart plummeted, his vision tunnelling as everything inside him screamed.

Before Erik even registered it he was on his knees, pulling Charles into his arms, sword abandoned on the ground as he tugged on the deflected bullet lodged inside Charles’s body. Erik felt it slip out, far too wet with blood – _Charles’s blood_ – and blunt at the end where it had collided with Charles’s spine after tearing its way through his chest cavity.

Charles’s eyes were wide, mouth open in a silent cry as blood gurgled into his lungs and up his throat.

“Charles, Charles!” Erik yelled, body frozen as he held Charles, not sure what to do because Charles’s chest was rattling unnaturally and his blue eyes were growing dimmer and dimmer, the light in them fading away.

Charles moved his mouth, trying to say something, but could only cough up crimson blood.

Erik then remembered – it was the human who shot this bullet, the bullet that ripped a hole in Charles’s chest. A bullet that was _killing_ Charles.

Erik turned his head towards the woman – Moira – and clenched his fist. The necklace around the woman’s neck constricted and she was lifted up into the air, choked noise lodged in her windpipe as she flailed around with pitiful futility, hands tugging uselessly at the metal wound around her throat.

“You did this,” Erik said, voice thunderous despite its quietness, fist shaking as he squeezed and squeezed and _squeezed._

_Or did I do this to you, Charles?_

Suddenly, Erik felt a hand tugging at his raised arm, shaking but determined, though his grip was not as strong as it usually was. Erik’s hand immediately dropped under the weight that pressed down on him.

Charles’s hand squeezed his arm, a plead for Erik to look at him. Erik couldn’t say no, not now, not when Charles – _God_ – Charles was bleeding out in his arms, far too mortal. The man felt like a hollow, flimsy piece of paper in Erik’s embrace, too light without his wings, too empty without his Gift.

“Charles,” Erik said, unable to say anything else. Charles’s forced his mouth to remained closed, lest he begin coughing up blood again, and made his mouth curve up into a gentle smile. Erik’s eyes blurred as he noticed Charles’s skin begin to glow, the man’s body burning up, _disappearing._

“No, no, Charles,” Erik chanted, begged. “No, don’t leave me. This isn’t what I wanted. I need you by my side. No, Charles. No. Oh, God, don’t do this. Not Charles. Please, God. No.”

Charles began glowing more and more, his hand rising to cup Erik’s face, before trembling to brush a tender caress across his cheek.

And then, Erik could hear him, that voice nestled inside his head that was so quiet it was almost imaginary.

_‘Good bye, old friend.’_

***

Charles and Erik had talked about fear, once. A silly human weakness, Erik had always thought.

But deep down, he knew that he feared one thing. He feared it so much that he pushed it down, down, down, to the very depths of his being so that he never thought about it, never considered it. For Erik, pushing it out of his mind meant that it did not exist, and if his one fear did not exist, then he had no fears at all.

But _oh_ , Erik feared. Erik was terrified of one thing, a thing that he never thought could pass; because angels were immortal, and Charles was the oldest and most beloved of them all. Charles, who would never be forsaken by Him, who would always be basked in His light.

Erik, whose sole fear was losing Charles, had his fear realised today.

Erik had been tasked with bringing upon the apocalypse, the end of the world.

Erik hadn’t realised that his world would end with it.

Charles body had burst into a beam of light, so blinding that Erik’s eyes had to close. When they reopened, his arms were no longer full of a man with chestnut hair and ocean blue eyes, a man that smiled up at Erik like he always did, in a way that said _‘It’ll all be alright, my friend’._

But how could things be alright when Charles was gone?

Gone to a place where even Erik could not follow.

And Charles had sacrificed himself for what?

For the humans?

Yes, the humans. The humans who not only took everything away from their own kind, but everything away from _Erik_.

Erik felt the humans, the humans that _killed Charles,_ move away in a car full of metal. ~~Metal, metal like the bullet I sent into Charles's chest~~. Erik smiled something terrifying, his teeth clashing as the lightning flashed overhead.

Slowly, Erik stood, stretching his wings before launching into the air, the sound of vengeance singing in his blood.

***

_‘Run.’_

The humans could hear Charles’s voice in their heads, which was a wholly strange and startling sensation, but one they heeded. Their lives – and humanity’s – depended on it.

“What the fuck do we do?!” Sean screeched as Logan slammed on the accelerator, wheels squealing across the dirt.

“Charles _died_ ,” Alex said, followed by a string of curses, gripping onto his gun with one hand and the back of the passenger seat with the other to steady himself, the car lurching down the highway. “What the hell are we supposed to do now that Charles is dead?! He’s the only one who knows what the fuck is happening!”

“Well, as long as Hank, Raven and the baby get away, that means we still have hope, right? That means that we can still stop the apocalypse?” Angel said hastily, everyone giving each other lost glances.

“Charles never explained _why_ Kurt is the key,” Alex said, everyone groaning.

“Maybe he’s the second coming of Christ or something. Who the fuck knows, man?” Sean said. “What I do know is that we have to get the fuck out of here because we’re definitely on the hit list of that angry angel dude!”

Suddenly, the car swerved violently, everyone screaming.

“Logan, what the hell?!” Alex cursed as the car spun, Logan’s rough hands jerking desperately against the steering wheel that seemed to rebel against his commands.

“It’s not me!” Logan growled as the metal of the car rattled violently. The rusted car hummed, the thrumming noise building to crescendo into a loud screeching noise as the car was pulled side to side, like a child playing with a Hot Wheels toy.

“Oh, shit! It’s him! He’s here!” Angel yelled, peering out the back of the car and jerking her hand into the sky.

“What?!”

“Oh, _hell_ no,” Moira grimaced, heart shaking erratically when she saw what Angel was gesturing to – it was that man, _Erik_ , the angel sent to wipe them all out. The angel sent to finish what Charles could not bring himself to do.

“Is he controlling the car?” Darwin shouted over the ringing of the metal.

“Beats me, kid! All I know is that we’ve got to get the hell out of this car. It’s a fucking death trap!” Logan gritted between his sharp teeth, muscles straining to try and regain control of the wayward vehicle that had been pulled off the pot-hole covered asphalt and onto the undulating rolls of sand and dirt of the rural desert.

Logan slammed his feet on the brakes, the car rattling and swerving through the sand.

“We’ve gotta jump!” Logan said, everyone screaming and looking at him with incredulity in their panicked gazes.

“Are you _insane_?” Angel screamed, the car’s roof suddenly making a grating noise, the centre beginning to punch inwards. The doors of the car rattled, hinges snapping, as the walls of the vehicle began to crinkle like someone was bundling up the car in their fist, a mere can of soda being crushed.

“Oh, God, we’re gonna die!” Sean cried out as Darwin and Alex kicked out the doors, wind rushing inside the car. Moira opened the passenger door while Logan kicked the driver’s side out, adrenaline ripe in the air.

“Jump!” Logan ordered, hurtling himself out of the car, followed by Darwin, Alex and Moira. Sean and Angel both screamed as they threw themselves moments after everyone else, just seconds before the car imploded into an array of metal shards and ignited fuel.

Heat flared from the explosion, which sent a storm of sand and dust erupting into the air, everyone’s vision clouded by red.

Everyone let out pained grunts as they collided with the sand, the tough granules chafing their skin and coating their mouths.

“Everyone alive?” Logan grunted, Darwin raising his hand from where he was half-buried in the sand, Alex letting out an affirmative groan. Sean spluttered sand from his mouth while Angel shook out her coat, Moira shaking her head to get rid of the ringing noise that had slammed into her when she collided with the ground.

The group barely had any time to celebrate their survival when dust plumed up again when something landed hard on the sand.

Angel, who had been pulling herself up, was suddenly slammed face-down into the sand as her legs were tugged backwards out from under her – the force sent the metal zipper on her boots to fly off as she let out a pained noise.

“Oh, shit!” Alex yelled as the dust cleared, revealing an angel with the face of a demon. Rage dripped from every curve on Erik’s body, rippling with anguish and unbridled fury. The angel was beautiful in a way that was terrifying, especially now with the harsh jut of his jaw and the firm lines of his brows and the darkness in his light eyes.

Erik eyed the humans in an almost detached eeriness, and yet heat swirled and rolled inside of him, a brewing storm that needed an outlet. And an outlet he found, raising his shaking hands to pull at the metal hanging from the humans’ bodies – Angel’s boots, the eyelets of Alex’s shoes, Darwin’s belt, Logan’s dog tags, Sean’s bracelets and Moira’s necklace.

All of the humans screamed as the metal around them hoisted them into the air, but the ones with the metal around their necks were only able to scream silently.

Logan, face growing red and veins bulging, gripped at his dog tags and let out a strained grunt as he ripped the chain links apart with his burly hands, dropping into the sand. Logan didn’t bother to suck in a breath as he bolted across the desert, throwing his jacket off to discard the metal of his zipper, lunging at Erik with a roar.

Logan’s arms wound around Erik’s torso, brute force slamming into the avenging angel. Erik thought, for a second, that this human was _strong_ , Logan’s tackle sending Erik and his wings back-first into the sand.

Logan’s efforts made Erik’s attention waver for a moment, his grip on the metal around the other humans faltering enough for them to drop to the ground, hiccupping and gasping for air.

“Get rid of all your metal!” Logan growled as he struggled against Erik in the sand, trying to hurt the angel that just returned his blows with cold amusement, thin lips spreading in a chilling grin.

“Weak,” Erik spat, jerking his wings to conjure up a flurry of sand and air that offset Logan’s hold on him, the man flying backwards in an arc.

“Logan!” Darwin called, rushing to the man who shrugged him off, running towards Erik again.

Erik just watched as the humans struggled – their efforts were pitiful, really. Like watching ants struggling to stay afloat in a pool of water. Erik just watched as they squirmed and tried to unwrite the fate already written for them, but couldn’t quite find the words.

When Logan sprung up, Erik knocked him back with a sheet of metal pulled off the burning car, the man’s head snapping to the side at the force.

After Logan, Darwin tried to subdue Erik, but did not fare any better. Nor did Alex. Nor did Angel. Nor did Sean. And nor did Moira.

Still, Erik kept watching the humans pick themselves up from the sand, not caring that they were covered head to toe in it. Angel tried to circle around Erik to subdue him from behind, but he just snapped his wings back and sent her flipping. Alex swung at him, but Erik swatted him away with the back of his hands without any effort. And Moira, Moira tried shooting at him again, and that made Erik angry. The foolish human clearly hadn’t learnt her lesson the first time, but the first time was already one time too much because Charles…

_Charles is no longer here._

Erik watched as the humans squirmed in the sand, still trying to fight him even when it was obvious that they could not win. Erik didn’t know how to feel – he thought he would feel more pleasure in eradicating these humans, but there was this small, inane buzzing at the back of his mind saying _‘There’s more to you, Erik. More than just this pain and anger. There’s good in you, too’_.

Erik paused, the humans now struggling to get back up again. It reminded Erik of something Charles had done a long time ago.

_“Those with power should protect those without,” Charles had said as he hovered over the body of an injured young boy, whose stepbrother had just pushed him down a gaudy set of stairs in an opulent mansion. The boy’s left leg was twisted unnaturally and he was in so much pain that he even forgot how to cry. The step-brother hovered at the top of the stairs, snivelling down at the injured boy, when Charles turned his eyes to him. The human did not see Charles, of course – no one could see Charles, not unless he wanted them to._

_Charles then pressed his fingers over his temple, the boy at the top of the stairs growing still and his face growing slack, eyes glazing over._

_“You will find no interest in this boy any longer. You will not hurt him, you will not target him. You will leave him alone,” Charles said slowly, the putrid youth’s mouth mirroring Charles’s words. When Charles dropped his fingers from his head, the boy at the stairs blinked, shaking his head like there was something stuck in his ear, before turning around and disappearing down the hall._

_The broken boy stared at the retreating back of his step-brother, confused and too used to the boy sauntering downstairs to finish the job, to make sure that he was so broken that there was no hope in him being able to put himself back together._

_But this time, Charles just smiled as the young boy pushed himself from the ground, biting hard as his leg screamed with pain, eyes alive and vibrant._

Why did these humans remind Erik of the boy with the broken leg, the one Charles protected out of nothing but the goodness of his heart?

But these humans weren’t like that boy; that boy was a child, and had done no wrong. These humans, however… they were no innocents.

The humans slumped in the sand, bodies weak as Erik stood before them, a pillar of power unrelenting. Erik ground his teeth, raising his sword, eyes closing for a moment as Charles’s image flashed in his mind. Charles, who would likely hate what Erik was doing right now.

Charles, who _died_ because of these humans.

In a wave of anguish, Erik gripped his sword tighter, his power surging out as the metal shards from the exploded car swirled into the air above the heads of the kneeling humans, who leaned into one another while staring at Erik, obstinate and defiant.

 _‘Stubborn to the death. So very human,’_ Erik thought to himself as he pushed at his power, bringing down the shards to eliminate the humans whose hands were soiled with Charles’s blood.

But suddenly, the desert was surrounded by _white_. Light poured out from nowhere and everywhere, blinding and all-consuming. Erik’s mind went blank for a moment, his grip on the metal diffusing into nothing. Silver and steel dropped from the sky like fractals.

Then, once the flash of brilliance cleared, everyone’s mouths were hanging open.

Red lips were curled up in a smile that held the edges of a smirk, milky skin incongruous with the red of the desert. White robes fluttered amongst the dust, pristine and untouched, while slightly wavy brown hair swayed across a smooth forehead, tickling dark lashes that framed two sapphire eyes that burned yet calmed. And wings – wings like white ivory, soft yet regal, rippling with energy – splayed out across the horizon.

The newcomer’s eyes cast a cursory glance over the group of awe-struck humans, before settling on the vengeful angel before them.

“Charles?” Erik whispered, dropping to his knees, sword falling blade-first into the red sand.

Indeed, it was Charles. _Charles_. Charles, whom Erik thought lost forever. _Erik’s_ Charles, who was standing before him whole, perfect and alive.

 _‘Hello, old friend,’_ Charles gently coaxed into the turmoil of Erik’s mind, his anger and grief and all-consuming need for vengeance fizzling out into the abyss. Charles could sense all of those feelings – those very _human_ feelings – and sucked in a tight breath, stepping towards the other angel.

No one could say anything when Charles stopped directly in front of Erik, the kneeling angel letting out a shuddering breath and reaching out desperately, wrapping his smoothly muscled arms around Charles’s waist before pressing his face to his stomach. Charles laughed, his belly rippling, and Erik cried.

 _‘I thought you…’_ Erik thought, the words almost incoherent in the overwhelming mixture of flavours in his heart – elation, fear, regret, relief, _love_. So many things swirled around inside Erik, pouring over Charles until he was submerged in it. Charles held them to his chest as he returned Erik’s embrace, cradling the angel’s head against his body, fingers twining through his hair.

 _‘I know,’_ Charles murmured through the newly rekindled thread between his and Erik’s mind, his spirit curling up in the Charles-shaped space in Erik’s very being.

 _‘How? I saw you… die,’_ Erik pushed towards Charles, his words cracking with anguish even though they weren’t spoken aloud. _‘Just… how?’_

“I told you, darling,” Charles said softly, tugging Erik up by the leather straps across his shoulders, smoothing his hands around Erik’s neck when the man stood until he towered over him. Charles stared into Erik’s grey eyes, a little glossy, before rising and pressing a kiss to Erik’s lips, which parted in an unravelled gasp.

 _‘All you needed was a little faith, Erik,’_ Charles spoke in Erik’s mind, the taller angel letting out a breathless laugh against Charles’s plush mouth, slipping his arms around the revived angel’s waist and drawing him closer. Their torsos were pressed flush and welded together, their mouths slotting together seamlessly.

When Erik and Charles pulled apart, lips slick and mouths reddened, they pressed their foreheads together.

“Never leave me again,” Erik whispered, Charles humming.

“Mm. Let’s go home. Our work here is done, since He no longer wishes for the world to be razed to ashes,” Charles said, now turning to the collection of gobsmacked humans.

When Erik followed Charles’s gaze to them, they immediately bristled, stumbling back in fear. Erik just huffed, curling his hand to call his sword back to its sheath with his powers, one arm placed at the small of Charles’s back and the other resting on the hilt of his weapon.

“Everyone, there is nothing to worry about,” Charles said, smiling serenely. “You did it. Even when all the odds were stacked against you, you persevered and never gave up. That’s why you were chosen.”

“That’s it?” Logan griped, narrowing his eyes at Charles. Charles just laughed, picking up on everyone’s incredulity at the sudden turn of events. “The world was ending, and now suddenly _He_ is all chummy?”

“It’s because of you. All of you,” Charles said, smiling wider. “You made Him believe again. You gave Him hope. You, who have proven that there is still good in the world, even when all hope seems lost. That was what I sought to do – to help you prove yourselves, because I always knew that you had it in you.”

The humans were silent, processing what Charles was saying. As the seconds passed, the clouds began to part in the sky, allowing the repressed sun to bask everyone in its daylight glow. The sun seemed warm, like a caressing gaze, one that promised of many more sunsets to come.

Erik nudged Charles’s back, casting his eyes to the opening made in the sky. Charles gave his angel a fond look, leaning into his touch.

“Now, I’m afraid it’s time for me to return to _my_ home,” Charles spoke, looking at the humans as he and Erik took a step back. “If I may ask one thing – please find Hank, Raven and the child, and let them know that they needn’t worry. They can live their lives without burden; they can raise the child in a world that they helped save.”

“We will,” Moira said, Charles nodding and offering her a gentle smile.

“Will we ever see you again?” Angel asked, Charles and Erik looking at each other, wings beating as their bodies lifted into the air and disappearing into the enveloping warmth of the sun.

_‘Maybe. The future is not yet written – just have a little faith.’_

***

“Dangerous,” Erik murmured against Charles’s mouth, the shorter man giggling as Erik flipped them over on the rooftop, hovering over his relaxed form.

“Hm?” Charles teased, nipping at Erik’s lips, taunting the angel with his tongue.

 _‘You. Your mouth. Everything. Just sinful,’_ Erik groaned mentally, leaning down to seal his mouth over Charles’s more securely, tongue searching and finding what it wanted when Charles let out a low moan.

“Erik, darling, the children are here,” Charles panted, Erik grimacing when Charles pushed at his chest, widening the slither of space between them.

Turning his head to the side, Erik looked at the ‘children’ Charles referred to; Moira and Sean lead a group of children aged five to ten across the grassy field as Angel, Darwin and Sean trailed behind them. Alex, who gently nudged his younger brother’s back while spinning a soccer ball in his hand, smiled as he watched the children leaping across the field with excitement.

“Come on, Kurt,” Raven chuckled, patting her son’s shoulders, smooth soccer jersey as he stumbled when trying to keep up with the group of children. “The game is starting soon.” With a gap-toothed grin, Kurt darted forward, Raven giving Hank and amused look from where he walked beside her.

“Can you believe he’s already six? That all _that_ was over five years ago now?” Raven asked, staring at the congregation of children on the field.

Hank looked at his wife fondly, tugging her into his side. Raven leaned her head on Hank’s shoulder, before looking into the sky and smiling.

After Hank and Raven had escaped with Kurt, it had taken a few weeks for the rest of the rag-tag crew to find them holed up in a seedy motel. Hank and Raven, who had been running on nothing more than adrenaline and desperation, had nearly collapsed when Darwin told them that the apocalypse had been called off, _just like that._

Everyone had been left stumped about what to do; everything had changed that day at the diner, that day when they realised the angels and Heaven were real and that things could end in a heartbeat.

They couldn’t just return to their lives, not those meaningless existences where they all felt like something was missing, that they could be doing _more_.

So, they didn’t return to their old lives, but made one anew.

By luck or by fate – or by God’s graces – the group that had been touched by angels had stumbled onto a sprawling patch of land free for them to live in. It was a home that seemed to have been gifted to them by the angels, a blessing that they wanted to share with others.

So, their house became a home for more than just them, becoming a refuge for children who were alone and deserted, a home that gave them a chance at a better life.

 _The St Charles Institute_.

The group had never seen any angels again – neither Charles nor Erik, nor any of the other archangels they knew existed. They often wondered if there were angels hidden from sight, silently watching over them, but they could never find proof.

They were right, of course; Charles had always been fond of humans, but this group more than most. Whenever he had time, Charles often flew down to earth to simply watch and bask in their happiness, a constant reminder that all was right.

Erik often came with Charles on his expeditions, since at first he was not comfortable with letting Charles out of his sight – not when the image of Charles disintegrating into deathly light had been so deeply engraved in his psyche.

Now, though, Erik had relaxed somewhat – after six years of watching this odd group of humans live their lives, and seeing Charles’s smile growing brighter and brighter with each passing day, Erik found that he had begun to enjoy the turning of time in the world of humans as well.

The world was definitely not perfect; war was still waged and vile humans spread pain and suffering, but that did not mean that all was lost. For all the bad that there was in the world, there was good in equal measure, it is only sometimes hard to look past the darkness to see the light.

Erik let out a little snort as he watched the tiny humans kick the black and white ball around while the fledgling adults laughed and cheered them on. The sounds of their laughter permeated the air, reaching the rooftop of the institute where Charles and Erik lounged, out of view.

Erik turned away from the peaceful scene when he felt Charles’s gaze tickling at his temple, the blue-eyed angel’s face soft with a smile that Erik kept close to his heart.

 _‘What are you thinking about, Charles?’_ Erik asked, brushing his thumb across the slope of Charles’s smile, before tasting it with his lips.

Charles let out a gentle laugh against Erik’s mouth, reaching up to press two fingers to Erik’s temple, _showing_ him.

Warmth, happiness, peace and love pulsed through Erik then, a mixture of all of the feelings Charles was picking up from the group downstairs, but also so distinctly feeling like _Charles._

Charles, who was all things good and wonderful, because he was witness to all of the good in the world.

And because he had never given up on it, even when it was hard to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading until the end, and I hope you enjoyed the fic! :)


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